Branded
by TrueShun
Summary: Ivan is the Archon of the Tevinter Imperium, a country ruled by magocracy. Sadik is looking to increase his standing in the Tevinter senate, as a sign of goodwill between them he offers Ivan a blue-eyed elven slave, branded in pure, raw lyrium. RusAme
1. Prologue

Branded

APH

Summary: Ivan is the Archon of the Tevinter Imperium, a country ruled by magocracy. Sadik is looking to increase his standing in the Tevinter senate, as a sign of goodwill between them he offers Ivan a slave, but not just any slave, this blue-eyed elven slave has been branded by pure, raw lyrium. RusAme

a/n: Yes, I know this is such a weird crossover, but since playing Dragon Age II I've been imagining America covered in lyrium tattoo's, just like Fenris. I won't be using any characters from the Dragon Age series, but I will be using their world. I'll try to explain certain terms from the Dragon Age world, so you don't have to play the game in order to understand the story.

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><p>"St-stop…" Sadik smiled at the boy.<p>

"You know, you're so beautiful… In fact, I'm afraid that beauty may be your greatest fault, _elf_." His fingers gently brushed the elf's check, smearing tears and blood across the pale skin. His finger gently trailed along his face; stopping at the chapped-bloodied lips he loved so. "_Alfred_…"

He tensed at his name.

Sadik smiled. He loved this, loved the power he had over this slave. _His_ slave.

His hand quickly grabbed Alfred's jaw, forcing the young elf to look him in the face. "You're mine!" he hissed, possessively. "Look at me!"

Alfred tried too, really he did, but his eyes… how was he expected to open them when they were so badly bruised, that he hadn't been able to see for days?

"… I can't…"

Sadik snarled, "You're not even trying." He forced Alfred's face higher, and with his other hand he forcefully pried open the puffy, bruised eyelid. Alfred could barely contain his screams of agony. Sadik laughed sadistically at seeing the diluted sapphire eye greet him.

Nobody would want him, nobody but himself.

"Beautiful," he whispered, looking longingly at his elf's sickly pale face. He pulled his hand away, and let the abused lid close. The whimper that escaped Alfred's mouth left Sadik feeling enraptured. His finger once again began lazily tracing out lines on his face. "I'm afraid I'm not done, in fact I haven't even begun. Believe me, elf, by the time I'm done branding you, you'll know what true pain is."

Alfred bit his lip, as his Master walked away. At least he assumed it was his Master, he was fairly positive that there was no one else besides him and his Master in the room. He tried to steel himself for what was to come, but he was tired, so very tired… Would his master finally let him rest, after he was done with his fun? He only hoped so.

He felt the danger he was in, before he knew what was wrong. He awoke with numb limbs, and a sore neck. The chains holding his body up were cutting the flow of blood. But none of that mattered, no, what he was feeling from outside his room was maddening. He gasped in realization.

"Lyrium."

"That's right," came the oppressive voice of his Master. He jerked his head to where he assumed his Master was. Sadik chuckled at his reaction. "I told you," he walked towards him, his breath gliding over Alfred's pointed ear, sending a shiver down his spine. "That I hadn't even begun the **real** fun."

The door opened, and while Alfred could not see, he knew without a doubt that what was entering the room was pure, raw lyrium. If he focused enough he could see the luminescent-blue of the lyrium ore through his bruised eyelids.

He licked his lips nervously as he tried to make sense out of this. Lyrium. Raw-fucking-lyrium. Why the hell was there lyrium here? Raw lyrium was dangerous, especially to mages, so why would his Master have raw lyrium?

Sadik watched in obvious glee as his slave tried to make sense of what was happening. It amused him to no end to toy with this particular slave. Alfred's emotions, Gods, he could barely control himself around him. The boy simply _begged_ to be tortured. He was so obvious in his emotions, but the one emotion he refused his Master was the one Sadik desperately wanted. His screams.

The most he could get out of him were whimpers, oh, but how he loved those too. It seemed that those emotions were the only ones that the slave kept under tight wraps.

Sadik turned to the workers preparing his forge. Oh, yes. He was going to have fun, and Alfred was going to help. His research needed someone who could handle pain well, and no one handled it better than his blond slave.

As the forge was started up, Alfred was taken out of his thoughts. Heat, okay, so his Master was planning on melting the lyrium, but why? Alfred bit his lip, the taste of iron filling his mouth.

"Alfred." Sadik's hands griped the sides of Alfred's face. "You should feel honored. Today you will help me gain a higher standing in the Senate." Alfred tensed. He was going to help his Master? He couldn't help the chill that spread through his body.

"I know you've shown promise as a mage, but I will not allow you the chance of becoming an apprentice mage, no, what I have planned for you will make everyone in the Tevinter Imperium fear the name of Magister Sadik." He smiled, feeling the muscles beneath Alfred's face stiffen. "Alfred, I know you're not averse to tattoos, seeing as you have your Dalish tattoo so proudly displayed on your pretty elven face."

He leaned in, closing the remaining gap between Alfred and himself. He could feel the anger radiating from the boy. By the Gods, how he loved his emotions. "There's no need for such hostility, elf.  
>You're getting a new tattoo, feel honored."<p>

Alfred growled, his fear turning to anger. His vallaslin were nothing to mock. They're sacred, damn it! He scrunched his face in thought, with things progressing the way they were, he wasn't sure if he would live the ordeal. Why not take the chance?"

"Vallaslin are nothing to mock, _shemlen_! How da—"

The hit was unexpected, and left Alfred shocked. Had Sadik hit him? No, Sadik liked to deal punishment with instruments, never with his bare hands…

"You'd best be silent, slave."

"Muhammad,"Sadik smiled. "You know you have to be careful, unlike the other subjects I'm really hoping that this one will live." Muhammad didn't respond, but he did wipe his hand on his clothes, a look of distaste on his face as he eyed Alfred.

"Are we going to begin, Sadik?" Sadik nodded, his finger caressing the wound on Alfred's cheek.

"Are you ready, Alfred?" he leaned closer, his mouth touching the stinging wound Muhammad had left on him. He kissed the wound tenderly, backing up to admire that confused face.

"You're special, Alfred. Do you believe that _I_ would give you a common tattoo?" he clucked his tongue. "No, just like your vallaslin, this tattoo will be special. Who's ever heard of a tattoo made from pure, raw lyrium on the flesh of the living?"

"W-what?" he spluttered.

"Will you finally let me hear your screams, Alfred? I don't believe that you will be able to deny my request this time."

Alfred felt the heat of life leave his face. He couldn't be serious. Lyrium, on his _skin_?

"You can't!" he shouted. "If raw lyrium touches a mage it will kill him, if you haven't noticed, I **can** use magic, you'll kill me!"

"Ah,ah,ah," Sadik waved a finger lazily at him. "You'll live. Your magic is different; it's not like those in the Tevinter Imperium, it's not like mine. Perhaps it has to do with your Elven blood…" he looked thoughtfully at Alfred.

"Regardless, it shouldn't affect you _too_ much. "

Alfred couldn't see him, but he knew that Muhammad was moving things while he spoke with his Master. A coil of dread pooled in his stomach. He could _feel_ it moving near him.

"Don't. It's not humane."

A laugh, and then the last words he would remember as he was engulfed in flames. "You're not human, Alfred."

His screams filled the mansion, the searing heat of the liquid lyrium branding his skin. He could vaguely pick up the scent of burnt skin, his own skin he realized. Laughter, why was there so much laughter? Who was laughing? It sounded crazed, was it Sadik, his Master did always want to hear his cries of pain…

He opened his mouth only to realize that _he_ was the one laughing. Mad, I'm going mad. Tears leaked from his eyes.

He gasped, his blood, it was seeping everywhere; he could feel it mixing with the lyrium on his body. He couldn't die, he refused to die… he was Dalish, the last of the Elvhenan—Gods, the pain— never again would he submit.

* * *

><p>an: Well here is the first chapter hoped you guys enjoyed it. I know, what's up with the Turkey/America pairing, don't worry America will be joining Russia in the next chapter, so, yeah.

**Lyrium**: Lyrium is a valuable but dangerous mineral. Physical contact with the raw ore will cause serious injury and psychological problems for humans or elves and will kill mages outright.

**Tevinter Imperium**: The Tevinter Imperium is a nation in Thedas ruled by a powerful magocracy. The leaders of the Imperium are called magisters, and are led by the Imperial Archon.

**Magister**: A magister is one of the ruling mageocrats of the Tevinter Imperium.

**Dalish**: Dalish elves lead nomadic lives, wandering throughout Thedas. The clans date back to the ruling clans of the Dales and the Dalish themselves are their descendants

**Vallaslin**: When the children of our people came of age, they earn the privilege of wearing the vallaslin, the blood writing. It sets us apart from the shemlen, and from the elves who have thrown their lot in with them. It reminds us that we will never again surrender our traditions and beliefs.

**Shemlen**: Literally "quick children". The original name of the elves for the human race.

**Elvhenan**: Place of our people. The name of the elven civilization before the arrival of humans in Thedas. Also could be translated as: "Our hearts".


	2. Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

a/n: Thank you for all the reviews, favorites, and alerts! Honestly I wasn't expecting anybody to actually take an interest to this story.

Warning: mentions of noncon

Disclaimer: Hetalia-Axis Power does not belong to me.

Chapter 1: Darkness, My Old Friend.

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><p>Cold. It's so cold. Alfred tried to cover himself, but his arms were just so sore. He opened his eyes slowly, and was greeted by darkness.<p>

Why where his arms so stiff? He couldn't remember. He tried to recall what he had been doing, but every time he tried, he would feel a horrible headache.

"Ugh…" he groaned, as he attempted to move his arms again. He limbs seemed to refuse him, and he settled on not moving.

He tried looking about the room, but even his neck protested the action. He sighed, and looked about the darkened room with just his eyes. He couldn't make out much, everything was to dark.

He felt incredibly uncomfortable. _Why_ was he here? He didn't know. He had a feeling that he should be cautious, he wasn't sure, but something, something was telling him not to let his guard down, not to trust.

Alfred didn't like this; just lying on the cot seemed like a bad idea. Something was telling him to leave, to get out of the room, almost like a gut-feeling. He tried to move, but every miniscule movement caused his body to spasm.

"Gaahh—Ahhah!" he yelled, as he rolled his body from the soiled cot he had been occupying. He fell to the floor in a splay of limbs. Groans echoed off the walls, but Alfred did not notice. By the Creators, his body was in _pain_.

What in the world had happened? He lay on the floor, his body in agony, and his memory a blank slate. He couldn't remember a thing, but he could vaguely remember feeling pain –lots of pain. His head began to throb; in frustration Alfred began to bury his head in the crook of his arm. It hurt, but it stopped his impending headache.

Only with his head burrowed into his arm did he notice the bandages around his arms. He hissed through gritted teeth as he rolled onto his back. He gasped for breath as he surveyed his body.

By the Creators… he held back a whimper as he realized that his _whole_ body was covered in bandages. What happened? What the fuck had happened? Who did this to him, where the fuck was he, _why couldn't he remember anything_?!

His nails dug into the palm of his hands as he fought to control his emotions. Calm, be calm. He closed his eyes; his erratic breathing filled the room as he tried to calm down.

He didn't know _how_ he got there, or who brought him there, so what did he know? He closed his eyes tighter, seeing sparks of colors dance around. He groaned in dismay. **Alfred**. He opened his eyed in surprise. Alfred, was that his name?

"A-alf-freed…"he hissed, through chapped lips. He smiled, despite the protest of his throat muscles. Yes, that _had_ to be his name. It just felt so right.

Good, he remembered his name, but despite his enthusiasm, he was unable to remember much of anything else. It wasn't his memory, but he was overcome with the need to be upset, to seek vengeance for what had happened to him.

He lay on the floor, unable to do anything else. He closed his eyes warily, he didn't trust the darkness. As his eyes closed he could have sworn that he saw eyes watching him from the darkness.

* * *

><p>He was positive that the bang he heard could have awoken the dead. He lay on the floor, his body protesting his movements. Alfred managed to turn his neck to look at where he assumed the noise was coming from.<p>

The door opened, and the room was flooded with light. Alfred grimaced, and closed his eyes. He opened them slowly, but the vision that greeted him was blurry. Tears leaked from his eyes as his vision began to focus. Slowly the shape of a man appeared, and while Alfred did not know who he was, his gut was telling him to be defensive, so he forced himself to growl, though it came out choked and feeble.

Muhammad was astounded to say the least. He had actually expected Alfred to die, as he had yet to awaken from his lyrium branding, which was nearly two weeks ago. He had even stopped force feeding Alfred, in the hopes that he would die sooner, so that Sadik would get over his obsession with him.

His hand tightened around his staff. This damn elf wasn't even worth the amount of lyrium that he was branded in. He approached Alfred, his laughter filling the room. "So, you finally decided to awaken, eh?" he glanced from Alfred to the cot, and his smile turned to a smirk. He crouched down, and viciously grabbed Alfred's chin. "Tell me, do you know how long you've been on this floor?" Alfred didn't reply, simply continued to glower at him.

Muhammad raised a brow. How strange, usually the damn elf would be yelling back at him. He released his hold on Alfred's face and studied the elf. That damn vallaslin was still proudly displayed on Alfred's left cheek. He had heard Alfred tell another elven slave that his tattoo was a rite of passage into adulthood, but now it stood as a testament to his hatred of power-hungry humans.

He clucked his tongue in annoyance. "You're damn lucky that you got to keep your precious tattoo, slave. If it was up to me, I would have burned over it in with lyrium." He roughly slid his gloved finger over the mark. Alfred wanted to smack his hand away, but it was taking so much energy just to force his head up.

"What's wrong, can't speak?" he said, false sympathy lacing his voice.

Alfred had _no_ idea what the man was saying, but damn it all if the man's voice wasn't pissing him off. He opened his mouth to scream back, but all he could manage where incoherent grunts. Muhammad openly smirked at him, and Alfred couldn't help the flush that spread from his cheeks to the points of his ears.

"By the Maker, you can't, can you?"

Alfred growled. He didn't need to have his memories come back to know that he didn't like this man.

To say that Muhammad was amused was an understatement. It wasn't a secret that Alfred and himself hated one another; everyone seemed to be aware of their mutual hatred. In fact, Sadik seemed to find the greatest pleasure in their daily fights. The fact that he was an apprentice mage to him was the only thing that stopped him from truly hurting or even potentially murdering the elf. Sadik had a soft spot for the boy.

"Sadik will be **very** happy to know that you're alive." He reached back down, and cupped the scowling elf's face. "You should have died."

He didn't release his grip. His eyes bore into Alfred's, searching them. "… What makes you so damn special?" Alfred didn't respond, just looked on pissed and confused.

"You have no idea what he has planned for you… trust me, you'll wish you would have died like all the others." His hands tightened, as he continued to bore into Alfred's eyes. "You know you're not the first, right? Why is it that _you_ had to live?" he laughed, despite himself. "Just my luck, to have the one person I hate the most live through this."

His grasp on Alfred's face loosened, but he was still looking into Alfred's eyes with an unreadable expression.

Alfred didn't like this. His senses were screaming at him to defend himself. He didn't know what the man was going on about, but something about those green eyes had him panicking. He had to act first, but what in the name of the Creators could he do, he could barely move…

He gingerly moved his right arm, his face contorting into pain at the small movement. Muhammad noticed, and looked to the slow moving arm. His hand left Alfred's face, and stopped the arm. "Don't be foolish."

He stood and faced Alfred. His lime colored eyes scanning the elven body on the floor. He sighed, resigning himself to what he had come to do in the first place. "Just couldn't be asleep, could you?"

He grabbed the new bandages from his pocket and stared warily at the elf. He bent down, and reached for Alfred, who stiffened at the action. The look of bloody murder was displayed clearly on Alfred's face. "I have to change your badges." He tugged at some of the dingy bandages, as if to prove his point.

Alfred's heart skipped a beat, his bandages where the only thing covering his naked body. What exactly was this man planning to do? He couldn't control the panic spreading through his body as Muhammad continued to tug at the bandages.

Muhammad knew the moment he saw Alfred awake that he was going to have difficulty changing his bandages. He quickly tugged at the bandages; he knew that the longer he took the more he was exposing himself to danger. He could see the anxiety on Alfred's face, as the bandages were removed from his neck.

The Lyrium tattoo was healing nicely, he noted, as his eyes scanned the exposed creamy skin. He noted that Alfred was trembling, and part of him was ecstatic that this was just as uncomfortable for him as it was for himself.

What the hell_?_! Alfred panicked, and forced his arms out. He clamped his eyes shut, and gritted his teeth as he forcefully lifted his sore arms to push Muhammad away. His eyes snapped open as he felt heat spread from his chest to the tips of his fingers.

His eyes widened as _fire_ spewed from his fingertips. He looked on horribly confused and terrified as fire hit the spot that Muhammad had once been standing.

Damn it, he **knew** that something like this was going to happen. He had rolled to the side just in time, thank the Maker that the elf was still healing. His eyes narrowed, and he advanced on the dumbstruck elven slave. "I don't have to change these damn badges, you knife-ear!"

He kicked Alfred in the chest, and smiled as he heard him gasp in pain. He kicked again, and again, until he heard the satisfying sound of bone breaking. He didn't want to stop, but any more damage to the slave, and Sadik would punish him. After all, healing magic could only do so much. He left the room without a single glance back, the sound of Alfred's cries of pain following him out.

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><p>Sadik was surprised to see his young apprentice look so annoyed. He knew the young man hated his slave, but he hadn't seemed so annoyed in quite some time.<p>

Muhammad smiled as he approached Sadik. "He's awake. I was going to change his bandages, but he didn't seem too happy with me. " He stopped, and stood at attention before Sadik. "I was wondering if you could change his bandages. He always responds favorably to you, sir."

"He's alive?"

"Yes."

"By the Maker, this boy does not disappoint."

Muhammad didn't respond, but then again, he knew that Sadik wasn't actually expecting a response from him.

* * *

><p>Sadik entered the room enthusiastically, followed by his rather reluctant apprentice. He noticed his slave's position but didn't comment on it. He knelt before Alfred, who seemed oblivious to their presence.<p>

"Magic?"

"Yes, some fire spell that I wasn't familiar with… it could possibly be some form of elven magic, or a result of the lyrium tattoo."

"Alfred," he prodded the elves side, but he refused to speak.

"He can't speak. I'm not sure if his throat is just sore, or if he might have gone mute."

"Mute?" he clucked his tongue in anger, and forcefully grabbed Alfred's chin. "Listen, boy, I want you to speak right now, do you understand me?"

There was no response.

"_Alfred_," he hissed, his grip tightening.

Alfred was pulled from his pain induced delirium, by Sadik's voice. His eyes focused, and fear griped his heart. He flailed, his arms weakly attempting to push Sadik away from him. He was scared beyond reason. This man. His instincts were telling him to **kill** this man, and that thought alone was terrifying.

"Speak."

Alfred looked at him wide eyed, face pale, and arms weakly pushing against him.

Sadik growled. He was not in the mood for this. If Alfred was mute, then what was the point in even owning him? He struck without thought, the noise engulfing the room. Muhammad looked on, highly anxious by his Master's actions.

Sadik never physically struck anything unless he was tremendously upset. Was the slave being a mute truly distressing?

"Speak, Alfred!"

Still silence. He struck again, drawing blood from the rapidly swelling lips.

"_Alfred_," he whispered, deathly calm. He looked up, even more on edge at the tone. Would this man kill him? Sadik leaned in, his mouth near Alfred's left ear. "If you don't speak, I'll cut your precious little elven ears off, is that what you want?"

Alfred gasped for air. He didn't understand what the man had said, but his eyes! By the Creators, this man was insane! Whatever he had said, he knew that it did not bode well for his wellbeing.

Fight. His mind was telling him to fight. But could he take this man's life? He bit his lip. Sadik watched him expectantly, his eyes devouring Alfred's every action.

Alfred opened his mouth, not quite sure what to say, or if the words would even come out. He quickly glanced at Sadik, swallowing nervously he stared him in the eye, "A-ar'din nuvenin na'din."

The crazed look in Sadik's eyes disappeared almost instantly as he spoke. "By the Maker, you had me worried." His grip lessened as he stared at the blood dripping from Alfred's mouth. "Is that Elvish?"

oOo

**Ar'din nuvenin na'din**: I don't want to kill you.

oOo

"I believe it is…" Muhammad replied. He looked at Alfred thoughtfully. "Slave." There was no response. "… Alfred?" his eyes quickly glanced at Muhammad before returning to their staring contest against Sadik. Interesting.

"Sir, do you know any Elvish words?"

"Elvish?" he looked contemplative for a few seconds. "Yes, I do. The slavers taught me a few phrases, but I only ever used one. Why?"

Muhammad looked at Alfred, who seemed confused by the conversation. "I think that lyrium tattoo may have done more damage than we thought… I don't think your dear Alfred remembers how to speak Arcanum. Look at him, he's reacting only to our tones. Tell him something that you know he would kill you for, but keep your tone neutral."

"Anything?" he mused. He glanced from Muhammad to Alfred and smiled sadistically. "Alfred, I want you to sleep with Muhammad." Muhammad growled, but Sadik ignored it, that was the expected result. Alfred had not reacted though, was Muhammad right?

"Alfred," he stared at Sadik warily, his eyes clouding over in pain. "Ma emma harel."

The result was instantaneous. The boys muscles stiffened, and his eyes narrowed, but his fear was present on his face.

"Wonderful," he whispered happily. "We have an opportunity to make him a better slave. He did have some nasty flaws, didn't he?"

"Some?"

"Muhammad, I want you to reteach him how to speak, Arcanum." He waved his hand dismissively. "He has to relearn Arcanum if we are to make use of his lyrium tattoos, and with the recent business of the Qunari, I won't be around long enough to reteach him anything."

"Yes of course," he muttered, his voice strained as he glowered at Alfred.

oOo

**Qunar**i: The race we call "Qunari" are formidable. Nature has given them fierce horns and strange eyes, and the ignorant look on them and see monsters. They are mortal enemies of the Tevinter Imperium.

oOo

"I will prepare lessons to teach him the language, but…" he glanced from Alfred to Sadik, and sighed. "He doesn't actually have to know how to read or write. You do recall the mess he made when he taught the other slaves?"

Sadik nodded his gaze on the anxious boy.

He lovingly stroked Alfred's vallaslin, as he stood to leave. Muhammad looked on annoyed by the action. Whatever Sadik had said had made the boy look like he would bolt from the room if he had the strength.

"Sir?"

"Hmn?"

"What did you tell him?" Muhammad noticed the confused expression on Sadik's face. "You said something in Elvish, I just wished to know what it was."

"Oh, that," he laughed. "I told him that he should fear me." And with that he exited the room, leaving Alfred alone with Muhammad.

Resigned to his fate, Muhammad turned to look at his charge. "Seems you and I will be seeing a lot of one another. Don't worry, I'm not happy about this as well."

He approached Alfred, and placed his hands on both sides of his head. "I guess I can't trust you not to use your magic, correct?" Alfred looked on, curios at his voice. "I'll just have to momentarily sever your connection to the Fade…" His hands glowed, and Alfred realized too late that he shouldn't have let him so near. He closed his eyes, which were assaulted by the light emitted by Muhammad's hands. He felt pressure on his head, as the blinding light changed to crushing darkness.

Muhammad felt Alfred's face go slack in his hands. By the Maker, had he killed him? He slowly lowered him to the floor, and noted, with relief, that he was very much still alive. He narrowed his eyes, as he observed the boy. A disruption to the Fade shouldn't outright cause him to faint. How strong was Alfred's magic? "It must be the lyrium…" he mused.

Wasting no time he changed the bandages, admiring the lovely metallic tendrils of the lyrium as he removed layer after layer of bandages.

oOo

**Fade**: Every living being, with the exception of dwarves, enters the Fade mentally when they dream and mages tap into it when they cast spells. Most people do not remember their time in the Fade, but mages are forced to recall. Spirits and demons reside in the Fade.

oOo

True to his word, Muhammad began teaching Alfred the official language of the Tevinter Imperium. At first he believed that he could teach him on his own, but Alfred made it quite clear on the first day that he understood absolutely nothing.

He needed another elf to help him translate Arcanum into Elvish. He had stalked the slave quarters until he heard a young slave speak the language.

"You, boy, come here." The young lad looked at him warily, but approached him. "How proficient are you at speaking Elvish?"

"… I know a few words, and phrases. Just enough to get my point across, sir."

"It seems that will have to do." He turned, walking out of the slave quarters. "Come, follow me, I have need of your abilities."

The boy followed hesitantly, risking a peek every now and then. "Sir?" Muhammad glanced at him, taking it as an okay he continued, "If you need someone to speak Elvish for you, Alfred would be your best bet. He was the one who taught me."

"Is that right?"

"Sir, have you've seen Alfred?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice. "He usually gets upset with me 'cause I keep causing mischief for the other slaves, but he always comes by to at least say hi…"

Muhammad glanced back down, this child didn't seem the least bit affected by his presence. Too young to know his place. "Yes, Alfred." He drawled out the name, a scowl on his face. "I take it your friends?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, Alfred needs your help, he… got injured. Can't recall how to do a number of things. That's why I need you. He can't recall how to speak Arcanum, I need you to translate what I say to Elvish."

"He can't remember?!" he shouted.

"He may not even remember you." The boy paled at the thought. "You're a half-bred, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir, I am. My mother was an elf and my father was a human." Muhammad nodded, that explained his human features…

"What's your name?"

"Peter, sir."

"Well Peter, from now on, I want you to come here every day around this time and assist me in teaching Alfred."

"Oh, of course, sir!"

* * *

><p>Nearly two months had passed, but Alfred was responding and understanding Muhammad without the help of Peter. While Muhammad was pleased, he was annoyed that Alfred still managed to get on his nerves. "Your memory may be gone, but you're still the annoying bastard you used to be."<p>

"How did I forget my memory?"

"It's not my place to say. Anyway, I came down here to tell you the lessons are done. Anything you don't understand you can pick up on your own. You seem to have a natural talent for picking up new languages."

He glanced at Alfred, he hadn't been allowed to leave the room since he had been brought in nearly three months ago. He also hadn't used any magic in all that time. He had wanted to test the lyrium tattoos, but Sadik was still away dealing with the Senate. He had sent a carrier stating that he would be returning in a few days. Quite frankly he was relieved with the news, this meant that he could finally spend his time elsewhere than with Alfred.

"Your Master will be returning in a few days, you'd best be on good behavior, Sadik is not someone you wish to cross."

"Whatever."

By the Maker, he hated him.

* * *

><p>No one was allowed to enter his room, and with his language lessons over, Muhammad no longer bothered to come down to light the torches in his room.<p>

Darkness, he hadn't been left in darkness for some time. He hated it. Anything could attack him… or watch him while he slept.

He had slept in one of the corners in his room. It wasn't comfortable, but neither was the cot he had. His eye sight hadn't improved, and Alfred suspected that it was due to the darkness. He would go from a room devoid of sight, to a world of flickering lights in a matter of seconds.

The corner was the only comfort this room provided. At least nothing could attack him from the back.

Alfred had attempted to create fire, like he had when he first saw Muhammad, but all of his attempts proved fruitless. "Could really use that flame about now…" he muttered.

He has seen Muhammad do it countless times, why the hell couldn't he do it?

Growling in annoyance he rested his head on the wall. His Master was supposed to come back today. He had only met him once, but he didn't like the man. He suspected that he was the one responsible for his missing memories.

Peter had explained to him that Sadik treated him differently from the other slaves. Peter assumed it was because he fought back. Something about being feisty he had said...

He looked down at his arms, and scowled. He had become rather self-conscious about his skin after noticing that Muhammad and Peter lacked the same marking as him. He had asked Muhammad about them, but he had said to shut up. And while pestering him was fun, it was clear that he wouldn't be divulging any information from him.

He closed his eyes, suddenly overcome with the need to sleep. By the Creators he was tired, what had he done to become so exhausted? He drifted off, his body slumping to the floor awkwardly.

* * *

><p>He awoke to light. By the Dread Wolf, it was <em>bright<em>. He closed his eyes tighter and covered them with his hands. "Peter, did you bring some torches with you?"

A laugh. All it took for Alfred to tense was that laugh. He slowly opened his eyes, his vision taking a few seconds to focus, and even then black dots danced around his vision. "Good to hear your voice."

Alfred stood, his body moving sluggishly. He narrowed his eyes, as he focused his glare at Sadik. "You."

Sadik looked amused, but didn't approach him. "Muhammad has informed me to your progress in Arcanum, I'm glad that you were studying so vigilantly while I was away. Truth be told I could barely focus on senate matters, my mind kept drifting back to you." Alfred didn't replay, merely growled in annoyance.

"You must have noticed your new tattoo by now, tell me, what do you think of it?"

"It's crap."

"Is that right?" his smiled widened. "I thought you would have loved the design, after all, the sun suits you so well, _Alfred_."

"Don't say my name like that." He snapped.

"Ah, Alfred," he slowly inched his way toward him. "Won't you activate your tattoo for me?"

"Back off, shemlen!"

"Activate them."

"I'm not doing anything for you, so fuck off."

"You won't?" he stopped his advance and smiled. "Well, I don't mind. In fact I prefer it this way."

The room stilled, and Alfred noted that it felt as if someone had sucked the heat out of the room. He cautiously returned his gaze to Sadik, who gazed right back at him.

He felt pressure on his head, and bit his lip in discomfort. He tried breaking eye contact, but in horror he realized that he couldn't.

"Now, activate your tattoo."

Alfred felt an intense pressure on his brain, he yelped, and felt the lyrium on his body heating up. He managed to break eye contact, and stared down at his body. He was glowing. By the Dread Wolf, he was _glowing_! In seconds the glowing died down, and when it did, Alfred could not restrain the crazed, panicked laughter that left his lips.

His body had become translucent.

"Amazing." Sadik watched, transfixed as the object of his obsessions stood before him. "Alfred, turn your markings off, and come stand here."

Again, he felt an intense pressure on his brain. As soon as the pain passed, his body jerkingly walked toward Sadik. Alfred gasped, as he tried to fight against his own body, but it was to no avail.

"F-fuck, you!"

Sadik smiled leeringly, and Alfred felt a coil of fear grip his heart. "You're my own _personal_ marionette." He whispered, huskily.

Alfred blushed at the suggestive tone.

"H-how can you _do_ this?"

"Blood magic." He smiled as his fingers ran through Alfred's hair. "Wish you would have listened now, don't you?" Alfred shook his head, trying to get Sadik's fingers out of his hair.

"So what now?" he asked in desperation.

"Yes, about that… it seems that Muhammad and the other staff think that your attitude is a bit of a problem. Personally I don't agree, but…" his left hand emerged from his pocket. Alfred stared at the pouch he had pulled out anxiously. "Muhammad is my apprentice, so I really should listen to him."

He reluctantly pulled his hand away from Alfred's hair, as he began to open the pouch. No sooner was the damnable thing opened that Alfred crouched in pain. "I see it works well."

Sadik crouched down, and smirked as he pulled a stone from the pouch. He held the jade crystal before Alfred, and enjoyed the strangled gasp that escaped his lips. Alfred opened his mouth to speak, but his throat refused to work.

"This stone took me two weeks to make, did you know that? Some of your blood is in this, I had to use blood magic to make sure that you learned your listen. When I say you're to do something, I expect you to act without hesitation." He grabbed the stone, and with a laugh, pushed the light green stone into Alfred's left eye.

The scream that left Alfred's mouth was better than any music that he had ever heard. No bard could compare their useless noise to that of Alfred's screams. He pulled the stone away, and noticed with glee that blood was leaking from Alfred's eye, dripping down his cheek.

He leaned forward, and licked the salty-tangy substance from his cheek to the corner of his left eye. He laughed sadistically, as he moved his mouth near Alfred's ear. "Do you know what I have planned for you?"

The bastard. He clamped his mouth shut, so he wouldn't let out a whimper.

"You are going to be my ultimate weapon."

"I wo—Ah!-n't be a weapon for an-nyone… I won't kill for you."

Sadik laughed, "You don't have a choice in the matter." He clamped down on Alfred's ear, drawing blood. "You belong to me. If you need proof to your ownership, then look to your skin. I'm the only Magister with enough skill to use lyrium as my signature mark. Those lyrium tattoos brand you to me. No matter where you go, people will know that you belong to me _only_."

"Now," he left Alfred crouched on the floor, and opened the door. "Muhammad, bring in the new slaves." He glanced back at Alfred and smiled in genuine happiness. "Activate your tattoo and attack."

oOo

**Blood Magic**: In the contemporary world, blood magic is described as being one of the more "sinister" types of magic. Blood magic is the magical practice of using blood, life itself, as a potent fuel for magical spells. This life may be supplied by the mage, or by willing or unwilling sacrifices. It lets the mage control the minds of others as well as use their very own life force to fuel their power. This practice is so rare in Thedas now that it can now only be learned from contacting a demon, with the risk of becoming an abomination.

oOo

* * *

><p>*One and a half years later*<p>

"You'd best be joking."

Muhammad grimaced. "No, this isn't a joke."

"So it's permanent?"

"I've had various mages who specialize in the healing arts look at him. I even managed to get Magister Elizabeta to examine his eyes thoroughly. She's the one who told me that the damage was near impossible to fix."

Sadik looked at his hands in contemplative silence.

"Permanent…" he pinched the bridge of his nose in aggravation. "If he can't even see, then what's the point in even owning him?" he grabbed the jade stone necklace around his neck tightly. Muhammad noticed that the stone was coated in a thick layer of dried blood, he unconsciously shivered as flakes of it fell on the table.

He may not have liked the slave, but he had been in the halls that housed Sadik's quarters the day Alfred had received his injuries.

He had been waiting for Sadik to finish punishing Alfred, so he could sign some documents. Apparently Alfred seemed to have delivered less than perfect on his latest mission.

People had apparently spotted a blond elf leaving the premises of the now recently assassinated Magister Heracles. People knew of the rivalry between Sadik and Heracles, and they had begun to suspect Sadik, after all, they knew that he had a slave that he was trying his best to hide.

He knew Sadik had been pissed when Alfred had told him he was spotted, but he hadn't known just how cruel his Master could be.

He could still recall Alfred's screams, they didn't even _sound_ like something a human or elf could make. He had stood in front of the door, frozen by the blood curdling sound. He didn't know how long he stood there, but the moment he regained control of his body he ran, the documents forgotten.

He glanced at his Master, for the first time in fear. "Why don't you give him away?" Sadik looked at him as if _he_ was the one who had gone insane. "Look at this logically; people are already suspecting you because of your feud with Heracles. They know you have a single slave that you're particularly fond of, so give that slave away to someone with higher ranking than yourself. That way, if they try looking into information on the elf, they'll have to deal with a Magister with a higher authority"

"Who would want a blind slave? A higher ranking Magister would scoff at me for even offering them such garbage."

"Act as if his blindness isn't an impediment… market his lyrium tattoo."

Sadik stood at the mention of it. "You can't be serious. No one outside of this mansion even knows he has them. If the other Magisters find out we'll have more to deal with than suspicion of murder. There might be assassination attempts, you know how the senate members act when one of us gets a hold of something rare. Besides, who would I sell him to?"

"The Archon might take an interest in him. You know his obsession with lyrium…"

"The Archon?" he waved his hand dismissively. "I don't know what you've heard of that man, but he isn't a charitable. Even if he was, he doesn't own any slaves. He wouldn't willingly take him."

"Isn't he looking for a cure for his sister? I heard that she went insane due to her addiction to lyrium potions. Offer him Alfred, after all, he has _pure_ _lyrium_ on his skin, and he's still conscious of his actions." He looked away from Sadik as he continued, "And if he doesn't want him alive, then he can cut him open to see what made him immune to the madness."

Sadik didn't respond, lost in his thoughts at Muhammad's remarks. He had thought the very notion of offering the Archon a blind slave was absurd, but Muhammad had a point. Even if the Archon refused, there was a legitimate reason as to why Alfred could simply disappear; after all, he had a _large_ amount of lyrium on his body, he could have simply died from lyrium poisoning, none of the other Magisters could argue his death.

"… You make a very good point. Set up a meeting to see him. Any time this week is fine. I'll go send a healer to Alfred's room. After all I can't have the Archon's gift suddenly getting ill. Who knows, I may even be able to secure a higher position in the senate because of this…" Muhammad didn't immediately react, and Sadik smiled in a knowing manner.

"Sadik…" he hesitated, did he truly want to know? He could look at Alfred's abused body and assume what was done, but part of him _needed_ to know for certain. "What," he swallowed nervously, his eyes looking everywhere, but where his Master stood. "What exactly did you do to him?"

"He really hates this stone, did you know that?" he casually took the necklace off, swinging the stone leisurely. "But there's one thing he hates even more, he can't stand it when I take away his freedom. He truly hates it when I control body." He would have left it at that, but he loved playing with his apprentices' head. "Let's just say that if I couldn't sell Alfred off on his lyrium marks, I would have offered his services in the bedroom to the Archon."

Muhammad blanched, as he watched Sadik walk away, laughing with every step he took.

* * *

><p>Alfred hadn't uttered a single word since being seen by the healers, and while Muhammad was glad for the silence, he couldn't help his growing unease at seeing the elf. "Has Sadik informed you?" he asked casually.<p>

"If you're talking about me being offered as a gift, so that bastard can gain a new political ally, then, yes, I've been informed."

"And here I thought you'd be happy to be rid of us."

"You damn mages are all alike." He stood from his place in the corner of his darkened room, and while Muhammad couldn't see Alfred's face, he knew that the elf was glaring at him.

"You're a mage, or have you forgotten?"

Alfred's body tensed, and in rage he stalked towards Muhammad. "Don't you _ever_ say that again. I haven't willingly used it. Every time I used magic was because a mage **forced** me to."

Muhammad had seen Alfred's eyes plenty of times after his injuries, but it still shocked him none the less. Milky blue… the color unnerved him. How was it that Alfred could see anything?

He opened his mouth to retort Alfred's claim, but the sound of Alfred's shrieks filled his mind. He looked away in shame, and cursed himself for feeling _pity_ for an _elf_. "It doesn't matter," he pinched the bridge of his nose in agitation. "You don't really have a choice in the matter. I just came down to…" To what? He couldn't rightfully say he was somewhat concerned about the elf's eyes. "To tell you that you'll be travelling to Minrathous tonight. The journey should take about a day and a half."

Alfred didn't reply he merely stalked back to his corner, where he plopped his body on the ground. Muhammad watched him in silence, before sighing and heading toward the door. As his hand reached the door handle, Alfred spoke.

"Do you realize what your magic has done? Before all this, I never thought that _I_ would take the life of a human or elf…" Muhammad's hand clenched around the door handle. "I haven't remembered much of anything, but there is one thing I do remember. One thing. Just one." Alfred's voice cracked. "You're not human." He laughed, and Muhammad stood frozen at the sound. Slowly the laughter tided over, replaced with chocked sobs. "I guess Sadik was right… I'm nothing more than a tool to you both, and to everyone else I'm a monster. Even Peter sometime looks afraid of me. A mons—ster," he choked out.

Muhammad opened the door and exited the room, but Alfred's confession followed him as he left the dungeons. He clenched his fist, angry at himself. Why had he stayed?

* * *

><p>Alfred wished he could have seen the scenery. He could only assume what the world outside looked like. He looked on, bored beyond belief, as he sat next to Sadik. Sadik had forced him into the same carriage as himself, and instead of fighting the demand, Alfred willingly sat next to him. At least it meant he wouldn't have to see Muhammad. Thank the Creators that Sadik had asked him to stay behind.<p>

He bit his cheek anxiously, aware of Sadik watching his every move. He hadn't meant to say all those things, much less _cry!_ By the Creators, he was a fool. He only hoped that Muhammad hadn't said anything. He leaned his head on the carriages window, his forehead touching the cold glass. Was it snowing outside? His hand touched the glass gently, almost as if he were afraid that it would break under his touch. It didn't snow much in Asariel, so Alfred had only ever seen drawings of falling snow. He pulled his fingers away from the glass, and softly caressed his eyes.

"So, this guy, does he know I'm blind?"

"No, he doesn't, but don't worry, he'll take you."

"If you don't want me now that I can't see, you think this high-ranking mage asshole will?" Alfred furrowed his brow in frustration.

Sadik laughed, his voice suddenly turning far too serious for Alfred's liking. "Oh, he'll take you." His hand grabbed Alfred's shoulders tightly, pulling his body away from the window, twisting his body so that it faced him. "He'll want you because of these…" his finger gently caressed the lyrium marks on Alfred's chin, following their trail down his neck, only stopping because Alfred, who had been paralyzed at Sadik's touch, managed to push back his fear, and tightly grabbed Sadik's wrist.

"I don't know what you're playing at," he growled, warningly. "But no one will want to own the creature that can live after being tattooed by lyrium."

"So touchy… you weren't like this a few days ago." Alfred's hold tightened. "Feel grateful, Alfred, this man may just as well have saved your life. After your little blunder, people were beginning to suspect me, after all, I am climbing through the Imperium senate rather quickly… but after I give you to the Archon, no one would dare be foolish enough to accuse me of anything, or bother looking into you. After all, I would have solidified a truce with him after he receives you."

Despite Alfred's hold, Sadik still managed to caress the lyrium on his skin. "If you think that _I'm_ obsessed with lyrium, just wait until you meet him, then you'll know the proper definition of the word. He'll take you. He won't be able to refuse. Not even his moral code of never owning a slave will be able to deter him from saying no to me."

Alfred scoffed, releasing his grip, and pulling Sadik's hand away from his face. "Moral code? All you damn mage care about are your position in the senate and lyrium. None of you have a use for morals."

Alfred turned his body from Sadik, his eyes gazing out the window, imaging the snow falling on the land.

Sadik opened his mouth, after all, he enjoyed fighting with Alfred, but as he gazed at the elf, the words died at his throat.

He looked stunning. Truly stunning. The few rays of sunshine that managed to break free from the clouds, shown down on Alfred, making his wheat-blonde hair glow. His dark green cloak contrasted with his scared pale skin. Sadik sat back, content to reach Minrathous in silence.

* * *

><p>"Archon Ivan," Sadik called, warmly. "Thank you for seeing us on such short notice."<p>

"Yes, I believe I haven't seen you since the Qunari attack last year." Came a deep accented voice that Alfred had never heard. Where was this mage from? He knew that the Imperium Tevinter once stretched all over Thedas, but that had been ages ago. Had he come from one of the previously owned countries? He listened intently, unable to do much else. After all, Sadik had threatened him to stay silent, otherwise he would use that fucking stone.

"Yes, I've been very busy in Asariel as of late."

"So I've heard. Your name has been mentioned a lot here in Minrathous." Alfred heard a scoff from somewhere in the room, and _wished_ that he could still see, he knew that Sadik's face at this moment would be priceless.

"So what was it you needed, Sadik? Your letter said that it was important."

"Ah, a pleasure to see you as well, Yao." Sadik replied. Yao huffed, and the Archon laughed.

"Yes, why have you come Sadik?"

"I've brought you a gift."

Yao scowled, as he looked haughtily at Sadik. "I don't see how a gift is an important matter." Ivan watched on from his throne, overlooking the exchange with a pleasant smile. He always did prefer it when Yao dealt with the Magisters.

"I'm very sure that Archon Ivan would be interested in this gift." Sadik glanced at Ivan, catching his gaze he smiled. Ivan smiled back, his eyes narrowing. Either Sadik was very brave, or exceedingly foolish.

"Alfred," he gently grabbed his arm, and brought him to his side. "I don't know if you've heard the rumors," he directed toward Yao, "but I have a slave that I've been particularly carful to keep out of the limelight. However, it seems that people have been curious over me secrecy concerning him."

"I know once the truth of why I was so carful to keep him hidden comes out, I might not be able to keep him safe. Let's not lie, I'm not the strongest Magister in the senate. I knew that if I were to give him to the Archon, he would be safe, and so would I."

Alfred nearly snapped his neck, as he turned to face Sadik. That was his ploy? Tell the Archon that he was a liable object that others would covert? The sneaky bastard… no one would expect him of having perpetrated all those deaths.

"You know Ivan doesn't take slaves, even if they are gifts."

"Yes, I'm aware." Sadik grabbed Alfred's cloak, and Alfred had to restrain himself from smacking the hand away. He easily removed the garment, and silence filled the large room. Yao was the first to break the silence.

"What… what the hell are those marks?" he asked, uncertainly.

"Lyrium. Pure, raw lyrium." His hand slipped into Alfred's shirt, pulling it down he exposed more of the lyrium tendrils. It was by reflex that Alfred smacked Sadik's hand away, but the damage had been done. They had seen the tattoos.

Ivan was out of his seat, and before anyone realized it, he was before Alfred, his violet eyes scanning the lithe elf body before him critically. "How?" he demanded, voice low and dangerous.

Sadik smiled, despite his efforts not to. "It took a lot of research and even more trial and error, but what stands before you is the product of my labor. I know about your own research concerning lyrium. With all the rumors concerning my involvement in Magister Heracles' death, it's only a matter of time before they find out about Alfred… I know if you own him, you'll be able to protect him from the other Magisters."

"Ivan, I thin—"

"Yao, check him."

Yao glanced from Ivan to the slave, not quite sure whether he should obey. "Yao." It was a warning. He clenched his fist, and approached the slave.

Alfred backed up. Not entirely comfortable with the turn of events. It didn't help that he couldn't see a thing. He didn't trust these men, at least he knew what to expect from Sadik. "Alfred," he glanced at where he assumed Sadik stood. "Stand still." He opened his mouth to say fuck off, but then he felt it. He swallowed his complaint. The bastard had the stone with him. He shivered, remembering what that stone had done to him.

Yao pulled his shirt up, and Alfred felt foreign hands on him, but he didn't care. His mind was busy replaying the scenes that had left him blind. Every line of lyrium that Yao touched, Alfred imagined it being Sadik's touch on his skin. He fist clenched, and he felt goose bumps spread on his body.

Yao marveled at the feel of the lyrium markings. They were smooth and cool touch. He curiously touched Alfred's skin, and was surprised to feel the skin unbelievably warm. He glanced at Alfred's face and felt guilty as he noted that the elf was slightly trembling. He pulled Alfred's shirt down, and moved away. "Its real lyrium…" he whispered, shocked. "How did you manage to put it on him without killing him, or driving him insane?"

Sadik glanced at Ivan, but his eyes were glued to Alfred. He inwardly smirked as he answered Yao. "Alfred was simply the lucky one. I've run test, but I don't have any definitive proof as to _why_ he lived, but not the others." Yao narrowed his eyes at the mention of other slaves, but Sadik ignored it. "It may have something to do with his body temperature. He's unnaturally warm."

"Yes, I noticed that when I examined his tattoos."

Sadik looked to Ivan, and braced himself for what was to come next. "I l know about your research into lyrium, if you take Alfred, I'll be willing to give you all my research regarding it. I'll even lend you my apprentice, whose specialty is wielding lyrium."

Ivan broke his gaze from Alfred's body, as he turned his toward Sadik. Sadik shivered slightly as Ivan smiled at him. "It seems everyone knows about my research into lyrium, I wonder, why is that?" Sadik shook his head uncertainly, and Ivan's grin widened. "Why give me something you clearly put effort into? What do you hope to get from this?"

Sadik smiled, and placed his hand possessively on Alfred's shoulder. "Like I said, once word gets out about Alfred's tattoos I know that I'm going to suffer an unfortunate accident." He leveled his gaze at Ivan, his grip tightening on Alfred's shoulder. "I worked to damn hard to get my position in the senate. I thought that giving him to you would work for the both of us. We all know why you're interested in lyrium, I figured he would be of some use to you. As for the benefit to myself, isn't that obvious? People only suspect me of murder because of my need to hide Alfred."

Yao looked on uneasily at the exchange. Was this Magister insane?

Ivan's continued to smile, and Sadik continued to stare at him defiantly. "I like you."

Yao groaned at the confession, and Sadik looked confused. "I don't own slaves, unlike the rest of the Tevinter Imperium, I don't believe we have a need for them." He looked away from Sadik, his gaze resting on Alfred's still body. "However, I'm willing to take him from you."

Sadik smiled, and outstretched his hand to Ivan, who shook it. "I may have use for your skills later, Magister."

"And I look forward to working with you, Archon." He glanced at Alfred and smiled. "Alfred take care. I hope the see you soon."

"Yao, take the elf to the guest quarters, and then call for a healer. I want him looked over."

He nodded, and grabbed Alfred by his wrist. His skin is still warm… He glanced at the slave, but Alfred had his eyes closed. Come to think of it, he didn't open his eyes once during that meeting. He openly peered at him, his eyes drawn to the red markings on Alfred's cheek.

"What do those markings mean, the ones beneath your eye?"

Alfred bit his lip, unsure of how to respond. Yao watched in silence, as various expressions passed through Alfred's face. After a few minutes, Alfred still had not responded. He looked at him, and sighed. What had Ivan been thinking?

They were in the guest quarters when Alfred finally spoke. "… Vallaslin. That's what the markings are called. Blood writing in Arcanum, it's a rite of passage into adulthood for the Dalish."

Yao looked surprised at the elf. He truly had not been expecting him to speak. "Dalish? What region is your clan from?" Alfred opened his eyes, startled by the question.

"I'm not certain…"

Yao stared. How could he not? This elf was **blind**. Was it due to the lyrium? He opened the last door at the end of the hall, pushing Alfred into the room. "This is your chamber for now. I'll have soldiers posted in front of your door. If you need something ask them, but don't leave this room." Yao waited for Alfred's nod of understanding, and when he received it, he left the room.

Alfred stood there, watching the last of the light seep away as the door closed. Darkness descended over him, greeting him like an old friend. He looked about the room, but his vision was too bad to make any clear assumptions of where things were. He placed his hand on the wall, looking for a corner to rest. He bumped into a number of things before he found it. He looked about the room, and despite his fear of the darkness he felt slightly calm. Even if he was no longer home, the darkness here was just like that in his old room.

He dropped to the floor, and closed his eyes, falling into a fitful rest.


	3. Warning Signs

a/n: Seriously, thanks for all the reviews, favorites, and alerts! They keep me motivated!

Disclaimer: Hetalia: Axis Powers does not belong to me.

Chapter 2: Warning Signs

* * *

><p>He knew that Yao would come back to see him, so he wasn't surprised to hear the door to his study open.<p>

"I trust that the slave is well?"

"Yes, he is. I just left him in his room." He stood before Ivan, watching his every stroke as he wrote. Ivan continued to write. Yao huffed and sat on the edge of Ivan's desk, something he knew irritated Ivan. Ivan stopped writing for a second, but then continued, albeit a bit slower than before.

"Why?" he asked curiously, looking down at Ivan work.

Ivan smiled, but Yao seemed unfazed. He knew that Yao would question his decision. He stopped his writing and eyed his friend sternly. "I didn't take him because of the lyrium."

Yao arched his brow, but didn't comment.

"I'm not so petty," he growled. "Sadik was not lying about the senate going into an uproar over his… my slave." A look of distaste passed his face at the word. He clasped his hands on the table, and eyed Yao. "Come, even _you_ know how the Magisters act when one of them gets a hold of something exotic or rare."

"Like beast." He admitted.

Ivan nodded his head in agreement. "If it's not the ongoing fight with the Qunari, it's the threat of a revolt in the senate… If I must take a slave to prevent infighting between the Magisters, then I will." He leaned back in his chair, the ends of his lips curled into a smirk. "The lyrium markings on his body are just a plus."

Yao nodded, folding his arms across his chest. "I haven't called a healer. Seeing as he is your slave, I was hoping you would give me permission to be in charge of his health."

"Taken an interest in him?"

"As a patient." He looked thoughtful as he continued speaking, "Did you know that he's blind?" Ivan nodded, unfazed by the information.

"Sadik mentioned it." Ivan looked pensively at the documents before him, "You and your obsession with elves." Yao spluttered at the comment, and Ivan's smirk transitioned to an innocent smile. "It's fine with me."

* * *

><p>"Damn Magisters…" Yao had wanted to go see Alfred in the morning, but there was a duel between two Magisters, and both had killed one another. It was a mess, and Ivan had called on him to deal with the matter, as he had an emissary from Ferelden waiting to see him. As soon as the matter had been dealt with, Yao had run across one end of the palace toward the other end, where the guest rooms where located.<p>

He greeted the guards and entered the room briskly. He smiled and then frowned as he found the room blanketed in darkness. The curtains were still drawn, and Alfred was nowhere to be seen. "Shit." He was about to run out of the room, and yell at the guards when he spotted something in the corner of the room. "Alfred?" he called out hesitantly, as he approached the corner.

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank the Maker." He neared Alfred, who was sleeping against the wall. His back resting against the wall, his head bowed down, wheat-blonde hair covering his face. He turned from the elf and looked at the bed. Why wasn't he sleeping on the bed? He glanced from the bed back to Alfred, eyeing the sleeping elf. From his position it didn't look as if the boy was injured, but he couldn't be sure. He looked at the exposed skin, following the metallic markings as they trailed down Alfred's body. What sick bastard would do this to another person? As he continued to follow trail after trail of the markings, he noticed that Alfred had very light lyrium markings running through his pointed ears, even through his eyes.

As he watched him, Alfred awoke. Yao tensed as Alfred slowly sat up properly. He slowly rubbed his eyes, and looked about the room confused. "Why is the floor so soft?" he muttered. Yao stayed silent and motionless, as Alfred attempted to regain his bearings.

A harsh groan filled the room as Alfred buried his face in his hands, suddenly remembering what had transpired. "Fuck…"

Yao coughed, deciding that he had gone unnoticed long enough. Alfred sprang from the floor, his body tense, and the markings on his body lightly glowing. "Whose there?"

"Easy," Yao placed his hands in front of him, his voice gentle. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm Yao, we met yesterday. I took you to your room."

Alfred nodded slowly, his body relaxing slightly, and the glow of the lyrium disappearing. Yao watched in fascination. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I'm Yao, the Archon's personal healer."

"You're a mage?"

"Yes, I'm a jack of all trades, but I'm particularly skilled as a Spirit Healer." He smiled, and sat down on Alfred's bed. "That's actually why I'm here. I'm personally going to be in charge of your health."

Alfred crossed his arms, looking annoyed at the prospect of someone personally attending to his wellbeing. "If it's about my eyes, they've already been checked. Some Magister took a look at them." He closed his useless eyes and tilted his head to the side. "Apparently she was the best in her field too."

"They've already been examined?" Yao asked surprised. "By a female Magister, correct?" Alfred nodded. "Hmn, I think it might have been Magister Elizabeta, she is skilled in the healing arts."

"Well, don't waste your time, mage." He spit out the word angrily. "She said it was damn near impossible to fix my eyes. Seeing as Sadik got rid of me, I'm guessing she was right."

"I'll be the judge of that. Like I said, I'm a Spirit Healer, I'm on a whole other level of magic than Magister Elizabeta." He stood, and approached the door. "I want to examine your eyes, come on, I'll guide you to my infirmary."

* * *

><p><strong>Spirit Healer<strong>: While healing spells do exist, spirit healers are well-known for taking healing and restoration far beyond a standard mage's capabilities. In effect, the spirit healer summons a benevolent spirit through the veil and that spirit uses its abilities on the mage's behalf, mending flesh and healing disease.

**Veil**: A metaphysical barrier between the mortal realm and the Fade. Neither spirits nor mortal beings can easily pass physically through the Veil, but the consciousness of mortal dreamers easily does so.

* * *

><p>Alfred licked his lips anxiously. He wasn't fond of mages, Creators, <em>why<em> did he have to be a slave in the Tevinter Imperium? He approached Yao slowly, and mentally cringed when Yao grabbed his wrist, the lyrium markings throbbing at the contact. Yao froze, his eyes travelling down to where his hand was gripping Alfred's wrist. He swallowed nervously as he _felt_ lyrium entering his body. He felt himself slowly becoming rejuvenated, and his body seeming lighter then when he had first entered the room. He didn't know what to say, and judging from how tense Alfred's body had become, he wouldn't be receiving an answer. He steeled himself and continued to hold Alfred's wrist as he walked toward his infirmary.

The walk to the infirmary was silent and uncomfortable for both Yao and Alfred. He would occasionally glance at Alfred and quickly look away, as If Alfred could even _see_ him. "Andraste guide me," he muttered to himself.

Alfred was more than thankful when they finally reached the infirmary. The walk had been awkward to say the least. Yao released his wrist, without questioning what had happened, and opened the infirmary door, ushering Alfred in.

The first thing he noted was the smell. He scrunched his nose as the stench of alcohol assaulted his senses. Yao chuckled as he watched Alfred. Everyone made the same face when they entered the room. "It's alcohol you smell, it's to clean the wounds when I have to operate on the more serious wounds."

"Smells like a laboratory."

"A laboratory?" Yao looked at Alfred suspiciously. "How would you know what a laboratory smells like?"

Alfred shrugged, looking nonchalant as he stood before Yao's scrutinizing gaze. "It's what Sadik's laboratory smelled like." He bit his lip, his voice lowering as he continued, "I spent a lot of time in that room, I just assumed that's what all laboratories smelled like."

"Oh."

Yao could smack himself. Of course he would know what a laboratory would smell like. Sadik clearly had experimented on the elf. "A-anyway, just take a seat on the table. It's to your right." Alfred walked towards it. He sat on the edge, running his hand on the surface. It's cold… did snow feel like this?

"Where you blind born?"

The question startled him, he looked to where he assumed Yao stood. It took a moment for Alfred to register what he had said. "Is that what Sadik told you?" he laughed darkly, and Yao looked stunned at the sound. It sounded full of malice. In fact, it sounded just like Ivan's laugh. He looked disturbed at the thought.

"No, I just assumed…" he sighed. Maker, this elf was not making it easy.

A bitter smile graced Alfred's face, and he spoke in a slightly strained voice. "I got him mad." He crossed his arms, and closed his eyes. "More mad than usual. My punishment consisted of…" his voice trailed off. He licked his chapped lips nervously. "Of many things. That bastard had a thing for hurting my eyes."

"So, you're not overly fond of your former master, I take it?"

"Is any slave?"

Yao didn't respond. From what he had seen from other slaves, yes, they were indeed fond of their masters. No matter how they were treated, they believed that it was their master's right to treat them in any way they choose. Slavery did crazy things to people's minds, Yao assumed that was true for all slaves. Maybe it was because this slave was Dalish, that he differed in the pattern? The Dalish, after all, where all for freedom and independence.

He clicked his tongue, and smiled. "I'm going to check your eyes, see if there's anything that I can do." Alfred bit his lip, and his brow furrowed.

"You're going to use magic, right?"

"Yes."

His face contorted into barely contained anger, the markings on his body lightly glowing. "You're just gonna check my eyes, nothing else, right?"

"I wouldn't abuse my position," he said aghast at the accusation.

Alfred raised a brow at the comment. "Wherever, let's just get this over with."

"I'm just going to check your eyes, I swear," he said, as he approached Alfred. His fingers lightly touched Alfred's face, his fingers gently enveloping Alfred's eyes. Yao breathed deeply, focusing beyond Alfred's milky eyes, to the thin complex nerves underneath the flesh.

Alfred cringed as he felt Yao's magic enter his eyes. He hated the feeling. He sat awkwardly on the table, his head facing Yao. He didn't trust him, but if he didn't let him do this now he suspected that Yao would pester him until he did. He bit his lower lip as the pressure on his eyes grew. Alfred felt Yao's fingers tighten around his eyes as the pressure on his nerves increased. He gritted his teeth, and his hands clenched on the edge of the table, but Yao didn't stop. Alfred gasped, the pain becoming too much, and grasped Yao's robes blindly. Alfred's mind went blank to all else but the pain. He felt the pressure decrease, but it wasn't enough. He buried his head in the fabric. It was soft and furry, and Creators, it felt _nice_. Why couldn't he feel like this all the time?

Alfred breathed heavily against Yao, who looked down at Alfred guiltily. Hadn't he said that he was just going to check Alfred's nerves? Andraste guide him… he saw the damaged nerves and got excited. He _knew_ that he could help, knew that it was within his skills to bring some of Alfred's sight back. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He awkwardly hugged Alfred, not sure if that was the proper thing to do. He certainly wouldn't want to be hugged by someone who hurt him, but looking at Alfred he couldn't help it. So what if he had a soft spot for elves? He liked cute things, he couldn't help it. And the elven population just happened to all look cute, even their warriors…

Alfred didn't respond to his words, simply buried his head further into Yao's emerald robes. It wasn't that he couldn't speak, it was that he didn't trust his voice to stay steady. He hadn't felt pain like that since, well, Sadik. He inhaled slowly, trying to calm his nerves. Slowly he noticed the smell of, cinnamon? Yes, he was certain it was cinnamon. Oddly the smell comforted him. His body relaxed against Yao, who was surprised, but didn't say anything. Yao was fairly certain that Alfred hated mages, or at least had some trust issues with them if their previous conversation was anything to go by. Slowly Alfred removed himself from Yao, and rubbed his eyes slowly. "You said you were only going to **check** my eyes," he accused.

Yao flinched, and nodded his head, immediately he realized his error and cursed. "I got excited," he confessed. "I can help. It'll take time, but I know that I can bring some of your sight back."

Alfred rubbed his eyes tiredly. He didn't need to see to know that Yao was beaming, he could hear it in his voice. "Well I be able to see clearly?" he asked, trying to keep the hope out of his voice, but failing.

Yao's smile faulted. The damage was extensive. When Alfred said that Magister Sadik enjoyed damaging his eyes, he wasn't kidding. "You'll be able to see. But I don't think that I'll be able to give you perfect vision." He saw Alfred's shoulders sag, and he hastily added, "But it'll be better than what you see now."

Alfred nodded, Blight it all, anything was better than seeing shadows for people. But he had to _trust_ a mage. Trust a mage not to screw him up any further. It was terrifying thought. He didn't know a thing about Yao, or for that matter, his new Master. He frowned. Would this new master expect the same out of him as Sadik? He shivered. He couldn't do it again, it was demeaning. Damn it all!

Yao watched Alfred, confusing his inner turmoil for pain. "Are you alright?" he asked, genuinely concerned. Alfred nodded.

"Just tired," he lied lamely.

Yao looked at him skeptically. He looked at Alfred and noted that he looked flushed. Was he coming down with a cold? His eyes moved from Alfred's face to the lyrium tattoos on his body. They were glowing earlier… was that normal? Truth be told, he had no clue. Sadik had yet to send the documents relating to his experiments on Alfred to Ivan.

He opened his mouth, determined to get _some_ information on what the hell had happened earlier in Alfred's room. "Hey, Al—"

There was an abrupt knock at his door, Yao grumbled at the distraction. "Come in," he muttered. A young woman entered the room, looking quite shaken, and glancing nervously at Alfred.

"The Archon requests your presence. He says it's important, Sir." Yao nodded. Damn, that was unexpected. He sighed, and eyed her warily. The day was barely halfway done and he was exhausted. The only con to being a Spirit Healer was the strain on your body. He would get a lyrium potion later, he decided.

"Did he mention if I was to come alone?"

"Yes, he doesn't want y-you to bring hi—," she cut herself off, and nervously eyed Alfred.

"Very well. I'll be there soon. You're dismissed." No sooner where the words out, that the woman was gone. Odd, usually the staff stayed a bit after delivering their message to discuss whatever nonsensical thing with him.

"Is she another slave?" Alfred asked curiously.

"Don't be ridicules, the Archon doesn't keep slaves," he said automatically. No sooner had the words left his mouth that he registered what he had said. Maker, what was he thinking?

"What does that make me then?" Alfred asked coolly, his voice suddenly sounding dark.

Yao was silent, he approached Alfred, and sat next to him on the table, leaning forward on his knees. "What I meant to say," he gestured wildly with his hand, "is that Ivan didn't use to own slaves." He glanced at Alfred and sighed. "You're a slave, the first slave he's ever owned, and truthfully, I'm not exactly sure what were supposed to do with you.

"When Ivan became Archon of the Tevinter Imperium, he changed how things worked. While he didn't outright ban slavery, he stopped it in the palace. Everyone who works here is a servant. They all get paid. He's not a fool, he knows that banning slavery in Tevinter would result in numerous assassination attempts, a previous Archon attempted to ban slavery, and he only lasted ten days in his reign. As much as Ivan would like to see slavery gone, it can't be done. It's become an integral part of the empire."

"He sounds like he's a coward," Alfred countered. "Isn't this guy supposed to be the strongest mage in the empire?"

Yao laughed. By the Maker, owning a slave was going to be interesting. "You can say those things to me, but if you value your life, you shouldn't say that to Ivan. The senate may have varying opinions on him, but they all grudgingly acknowledge and respect his expertise in magic."

"You've heard of how Ivan became Archon, right?" he asked.

Alfred waved his hand dismissively. "Don't care."

* * *

><p>He'd escorted Alfred back to his room, without touching him of course. He'd have to mention the incident with the lyrium markings to Ivan at some point during their discussion today.<p>

He entered Ivan's study, surprised to see him crouched down in front of what seemed to be an elaborate chest.

"Have you seen to the elf?" Ivan asked, not once glancing up from the chest.

"Yes, I was actually with him when you sent for me," Yao said, as he approached Ivan. He stood near him, peering at the chest. It really was a beautiful chest, finally crafted, and adorned with various hues of blue jewels.

Yao's thoughts were interrupted by Ivan's voice. "One of Sadik's men brought this."

"Alfred's belongings?" he asked.

He didn't respond, merely opened the chest. The first things that greeted him was a jade necklace. It was a simple design, but its simplicity was what made it beautiful. Ivan pushed the item aside, and pulled out a broken broad sword. It was a hefty blade, but Ivan swung it effortlessly.

"That's a rather large blade," Yao remarked, slightly in awe of Ivan's strength. "Did Sadik mention what it was that Alfred did under his ownership?"

"His bodyguard, I thought he was making a joke," he said thoughtfully, carefully running his gloved finger on the broken ridges of the blade. He outstretched the blade to Yao, who took the weapon happily, but immediately the smile transitioned to a grimace as he struggled to hold the broken blade up. Ivan giggled childlike as Yao spoke, his voice strained.

"Alfred mentioned getting Sadik mad, that's the reason he lost his vision… happened during his punishment." He quickly placed the blade down, scowling at Ivan. "Anyway," he huffed, "do you think this has something to do with the sword being broken? He could have possibly messed up protecting him," he ventured.

Ivan nodded. "That might be it." He smiled, and Yao felt a shiver pass his body at the sight of it. No matter how well he knew Ivan, there were times were even _he_ was scared by that smile. "That slave—Alfred, was it? He's deceptively strong, those elves are just full of surprises."

He turned from Yao and continued to rummage through the chest. He found a navy blue scarf, carefully folded, and tied by a very ornate necklace. It looked to be made from hundreds of wooden beads in the shape of various animals. "You mentioned that he was Dalish, correct?" Yao nodded, and Ivan once again inspected the necklace, removing it from the scarf. He placed it in his pocket, and resumed his search of the chest.

Almost immediately the atmosphere in Ivan's study changed. Yao watched warily as Ivan pulled a choker from the chest. It was gaudy, covered in numerous jewels and seemed to be made of gold. His eyes narrowed as he spotted spikes in the inside of the choker. Ivan placed it down, returning to the chest and pulling out a circlet similar to design to that of the choker.

Yao picked the choker up, his suspicions confirmed. "A Fade blocker… why would he have this?" he questioned.

Ivan took the circlet with him, and sat at his desk, inspecting it with a gentle smile gracing his lips. He lightly touched the small spikes inside the circlet, dry blood met his gloved finger, coating the material in crimson flakes. "I don't believe that my slave is aware of this chest."

Yao looked to him, confused. "Then whose is it?"

"Sadik's."

Yao glanced at the choker in his hands, recalling how Alfred had relaxed against him as he buried his face against his robe. But it didn't make sense… Alfred didn't like mages, but these objects brought up an interesting discovery. "He's a mage," he said, shocked.

Ivan nodded, his grip on the beaded necklace tightening. "What better way to control someone, than controlling their identity." He laughed, the noise echoing against the walls. "Sadik truly is a formidable ally." He leaned back on his chair, smiling at Yao. "Don't tell my little elf about this chest."

Yao nodded, his head rushing with this new information. He bit his lip in worry. Right now would be the best time to tell Ivan what he had found out about Alfred, wouldn't it? "Actually, Ivan, there's something I have to tell you about Alfred…"

* * *

><p>The discussion with Ivan had been interesting to say the least. Ivan had smiled the whole conversation. To say that he was concerned for Alfred was a bit of an understatement. Ivan had said that he had taken Alfred to avoid fighting, but now Yao wasn't so sure that was the real reason. Was Ivan even into men? He'd known Ivan since childhood, they'd grown up together, but he'd never even seen Ivan truly take an interest in anyone. Yao knew that elves were favored over other slaves because of their beauty. He sighed, in the end there wasn't much he could do if Ivan took a sexual interest in Alfred. After all, Alfred belonged to Ivan.<p>

Yao ran his hand through his hair in thought. Ivan had told him not to mention knowing that Alfred was a mage. He wouldn't, but it didn't stop him from being undeniably curious. If Alfred was a mage, why did he hate them? His train of thought stopped as he found himself in front of Alfred's room.

Yao knocked on the door, and entered the room. He looked about the room, and discovered Alfred in the same corner from earlier in the day.

Alfred turned his head to him and nodded. "The healer, right?"

He smiled, joy evident in his voice. "Yes." He approached Alfred, holding a tray full of food carefully. "I've brought you some dinner, here." He held the tray out to Alfred who didn't reach for it. Yao looked at Alfred surprised, why wouldn't he take the food? Of course, Sadik. Had he used food as a punishment? He had overheard other Magisters talking about withholding food from their slaves. He felt his blood boil at Ivan's newest friend.

"I'll just place this here," he said, placing the tray down near Alfred's legs, making sure that the tray touched them, so Alfred would know that he wasn't lying.

"I'll be by your room later tonight, I want to start working on your eyes," he announced.

That got Alfred's attention. His head snapped up, and his milky eyes widened. "You really think you can fix it?"

"Of course. I said I could earlier, didn't I?"

Alfred smiled at Yao's enthusiasm, forgetting for a moment that Yao was a mage. "Wait," his smile faltered, "will it hurt like last time?"

"I'm not sure," Yao confessed, he crossed his arms in thought. "In all likelihood it might hurt, your nerves are severely damaged."

Alfred bit his lip, not entirely happy with the situation.

"Oh," Yao clasped his hands loudly. "Ivan will be joining us. He wants to see how you're doing… he's highly interested in you." Alfred didn't respond. "I have a meeting to get to, so I'll see you later tonight, all right?"

* * *

><p>He was back in his corner, waiting for Yao to show up. He lazily pushed the tray of food that Yao had brought him. It was surprisingly delicious, unfortunately he hadn't been able to eat it all. "Bastard…" he muttered in the darkness. Sadik would punish him often for no reason. Besides destroying his eyes, he enjoyed seeing how long Alfred could last without food. Often Sadik would trick him, making Alfred believe that his punishment was over, but at the last minute he would restrain him, the food inches from his fingers. Sadik wouldn't relent until Alfred was a crying mess, <em>begging<em> for food. He shivered at the memory, and pushed the tray of food away, the smell of seasoned meats and vegetables nauseating him.

* * *

><p>Where the hell was Yao? Alfred angrily stood from his place in the corner of his room, pacing his room nervously. He had accidently fallen asleep waiting for time to pass. He didn't need to see to know that it was very late. While Alfred was indeed blind, he could still see shadowy blurs, albeit not very clearly, but enough to assume where objects or people where. "Jeez, he could have at least lit some torches before he left," he complained, after all, he couldn't discern shadows in a darkened world.<p>

He paced the room, lost in thought he stumbled on his forgotten tray of food, and landed unceremoniously on his bed. He hadn't touched the bed since he was brought into the room, and why would he? The bed was out in the open, and whatever was lurking in the darkness could get him from any angle. At least in the corner whatever hid in the shadows could only get him from the front. What could he say, the darkness terrified him. He lightly rubbed his hand on the bed, enjoying the feel of cotton against his skin. He abruptly stopped, pulling his hand from the material as if it had burned him. "What the fuck am I doing?" he scrambled from the bed, returning to his place in the corner.

He shouldn't get used to this. What if this was a ploy? Yao being nice, the meals, and the unbelievably soft bed… what if Ivan was like Sadik? Was this some elaborate trick to make him look a fool? Worse, what if Ivan was like Sadik, would he get off on Alfred's pain?

He wouldn't let that happen. He'd put up more of a fight, after all, Sadik had that damn stone, Ivan didn't. He stood a chance this time. He closed his eyes warily, his thoughts drifting from Ivan to Yao. Yao was nice, but something about him was weird, then again it could all be a trick. Deciding that Yao was full of it for not following through on his promise, Alfred let his head fall back, resting against the corner of the wall.

No sooner had he decided to return to sleep that he felt an intense pain start at his chest, slowly creeping out to the rest of his body. He bit his lip instinctively, trying to keep from crying out in pain. "Nuh-ah! N-no, not now," he choked out. He hugged himself, burying his head into his arms. His lyrium markings began glowing, illuminating the room in a soft glow of ghostly-blue. Alfred's mind blanked all thoughts of Ivan and Yao disappeared, the only thing he could focus on was the pain. Tears fell from his eyes, and saliva trailed down from his mouth as stifled screams escaped his lips.

* * *

><p>He awoke to someone touching him, instinctively he smacked the hand away. "It's me, Yao," he heard someone whisper calmly.<p>

Alfred grunted, and attempted to relax against the wall. His body protested the action, and he thanked Mythal for not letting anyone see him break down earlier. "Your late," he grumbled, his voice slightly horse. Yao noticed but didn't comment.

* * *

><p><strong>Mythal<strong>: Mythal, the Protector, is the patron of motherhood and justice and leads the elven pantheon with her male counterpart, Elgar'nan. In elven legend, when Elgar'nan threw the sun out of the sky in vengeance for burning the earth to ashes, Mythal calmed him and helped him see that he was wrong. Elves will invoke Mythal's name when they require protection.

* * *

><p>He had come in and noticed Alfred groaning, his body shaking from what he assumed was a nightmare. "Yes, sorry about that. There was an emergency that Ivan couldn't ignore." He smiled apologetically, sitting on the floor next to Alfred. "I said I would come for you later in the night, it's extremely late, but I wanted to keep my promise." He hesitated at his next words. "Still up for going to the infirmary to get started on your eyes?"<p>

Alfred nodded dumbly, not really expecting Yao to explain himself to him. Creators only knew that Sadik and Muhammad never did. "Good," Yao laughed. He stood, and approached the door. As Alfred stood, Yao suddenly turned to him. "Oh, Ivan will be joining us."

* * *

><p>"Just sit at the table, we'll get started quickly."<p>

Alfred nodded, and approached the table. Preparing himself for the pain that would soon consume him. As if his body didn't hurt enough.

"So, is he here?" Alfred asked, slightly curious.

"No, when I left he was finishing up. He'll probably end up coming later," Yao responded.

Yao approached Alfred, noting that he looked pale and sickly. "Are you ready?"

"Of course," he smiled brightly, his voice filled with a confidence he didn't feel. "Let's do this."

Yao smiled, buying Alfred's act. His fingers sought out Alfred's eyes, his nails slightly digging into Alfred's creamy skin.

The feel of foreign magic entering his body always made Alfred nervous. But unlike other times, there was a legitimate reason to be nervous. This would _hurt_. He licked his lips nervously as he felt Yao apply more pressure onto his nerves. Alfred unconsciously griped the table, preparing himself for the pain to amplify.

It seemed that was the cue that Yao needed because at that moment there was a rush of magic entering his eyes. Alfred gasped, his grip on the table tightening.

So focused where Alfred and Yao that they didn't notice Ivan enter the room. Ivan knew better than to interrupt Yao when he was working, so he contented himself to watching Alfred. He wasn't lying when he told Yao that he took Alfred to avoid fighting. The Magisters were looking for any reason to discredit him. They weren't particularly happy with his budding alliance with Fereldan, or the fact that he had agreed to help the Grey Wardens return captured Fereldan refugees, who were being sold as slaves in the Tevinter Imperium.

* * *

><p><strong>Fereldan<strong>: A kingdom in southeastern Thedas.

**Grey Wardens**: An ancient organization of warriors of exceptional ability dedicated to fighting darkspawn in all of Thedas.

* * *

><p>Ivan's eyes followed the trail of lyrium on Alfred's skin. He heard Alfred gasp in pain, and the ends of his lips curled into a slight smile. He wasn't a fool, he could see why Sadik was so possessive of this slave. The elf was very expressive from what he could tell from what Yao told him. It didn't hurt that he was pleasing to the eye.<p>

Alfred's face contorted in pain as time ticked away. Creators, he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold out. It hurt. The taste of copper filled his mouth as he bit his tongue to keep from screaming, but he felt at his wits end.

Finally the pain spiked, and Alfred felt a searing white-hot pain erupt in his eyes. He screamed, smacking Yao's hands away from his face. The lyrium markings on his body glowed, and Alfred jerked from the table, gripping his eyes as he stumbled away from the table. A mixture of tears and blood spilled from his eyes. He was trembling, his body acting on instinct.

Yao watched, stunned.

Alfred inched his way toward Ivan, only stopping because his body gave in to the pain. Before his body hit the floor, Ivan caught him. He dragged Alfred back to the table, laying his body down harshly. "Care to explain what happened?"

"This happened last time," Yao muttered, running his hand through his hair. "His nerves are severely damaged, it only makes sense that they'll hurt like hell when they're being healed."

Yao let out a shaky breath, rummaging through one of his cabinets for some salve and gauze wrap. He carefully applied the salve, and wrapped Alfred's eyes guiltily. Ivan watched the whole process silently. Once Yao finished, he turned his attention back to the salves. Was there one that could numb pain? If not, he should make one…

Ivan turned his attention from Yao back to Alfred. "Very unexpected," he whispered to the unconscious elf. His lips quirked into a grin as he eyed the lyrium marking on Alfred. Taking advantage of Alfred's lack of consciousness, he happily touched them. His finger greedily ran down Alfred's neck to his clavicle, only stopping because Alfred's clothes got in the way. His fingers left Alfred's skin, and he expertly began to remove Alfred's shirt. "You're right," he directed toward Yao, "you can feel a rush of adrenaline just by touching these."

Yao stopped his search for a numbing salve at Ivan's words. He slowly turned, and found Ivan removing Alfred's clothes. He turned, blushing instantly. So he was right to suspect that Ivan was interested in Alfred, but Maker, he was _still_ in the room! Couldn't Ivan wait until he left?

With the shirt removed, Ivan continued trailing Alfred's brandings, oblivious to Yao's unease. The metallic tendrils flowed down Alfred's clavicle, varying in width as they encompassed Alfred's chest. Ivan stopped his advancement as he noticed that the branding had a pattern. Over the area that housed Alfred's heart a large, fiery sun was displayed proudly. It seemed that all the marking passed through it. Ivan followed the trail from Alfred's chest down to his hips, were Alfred's clothes blocked his prying eyes. Ivan smiled, truly curious now. Where the markings _all_ over Alfred's body?

"Um, I have to get some salves from my room," Yao interrupted, very uncomfortable. Ivan didn't even acknowledge him. Yao tried his best to leave the room discreetly.

Ivan placed the palm of his hand on Alfred's heart. The lyrium there throbbed against his skin, and he felt a rush as once again lyrium entered his body. He put more pressure against the tattoo, feeling the lyrium moving against his skin.

It was instantaneous. Alfred's body arched up at the contact. His mouth hung opened lewdly as he groaned loudly. Ivan felt his cheeks heat up at the noise. He slowly removed his hand, and eyed his slave with new eyes. He smiled, and patted Alfred's head. "This is going to be fun."

* * *

><p>Alfred awoke sometime later, his head a jumbled mess of pain. He groggily rubbed his face in something far too soft. Where was he? He carefully got up, his stomach lurching at the action. Creators, he felt terrible. His hand slowly rose up to rub his eyes. "Did I get hammered last night?" he said to himself. That train of thought vanished as he felt the familiar feeling of gauze on his face.<p>

"Oh, right." His hand fell from his face, and he sat on the bed dazed as he recalled why his eyes were covered. "Ugh, I made a Blighted mess of things," he muttered, as he pushed himself from what he assumed was his bed. He stumbled as he made his way toward his corner. "I hope Yao brings some food," he grumbled. Hopefully he would bring something he could keep down.

It seemed that just mentioning Yao's name would summon him, or at least that's what Alfred liked to imagine how it happened, as Yao did indeed enter his room, except he didn't have food with him.

"Ah, thank Andraste, you're awake!" Yao approached Alfred, smiling. "You collapsed a day ago," he explained.

Alfred had just opened his mouth when his stomach decided to speak for him. He flushed red from embarrassment, and Yao couldn't keep himself from chuckling. "I'll call a servant up later with food for you." The joy vanished from his voice at the next words. "Not to change topics, but can I check your eyes?"

Alfred grunted in approval, and Yao approached. He carefully placed his hands on Alfred's eyes, and let his magic enter the damaged nerves. Yao smiled, his hands leaving Alfred's face. "It's healing well. It'll take some time, but you'll be able to see eventually," he assured.

Alfred smiled, Creators, he'd be able to see again! "… Thank you," he whispered. "Never thought I'd thank a mage for anything."

"Heh," Yao blushed, damn, Alfred looked adorable when he smiled. He rubbed his neck sheepishly, looking away from him. His eyes landed on Alfred's bed, where he noticed something that definitely didn't belong to him. That was Ivan's cloak, there was no way he could mistake it. He walked toward the bed and inspected it.

The cloak was heavy, and Yao struggled to lift it. His hands opened the charcoal black material, exposing the crimson silk lining. His fingers ran down the crest in the center of the inside. There was no doubt whose crest that was. So this was where Ivan had left it… He had questioned him to its whereabouts, but Ivan wouldn't tell him.

"I doubt you noticed, but Ivan did show up that night," Yao suddenly announced.

Alfred blanched at the information. "He saw me?"

"Yes, in fact, he was the one who brought you back to your room."

"Great. That's just perfect," Alfred muttered miserably.

"Don't worry, you made quite the impression on him." He wasn't kidding, Alfred _did_ make quite the impression on Ivan, unfortunately it probably wasn't the kind that Alfred wanted.

"Ivan personally assigned me to you," Yao placed the cloak back down, walking back toward Alfred. Yao smiled, clasping his hand on Alfred's shoulder. "We'll take it slow, but I hope you're ready. I'm going to make sure you see again. After all, those are Ivan's orders."

* * *

><p>an: Thanks for reading. I have half of the next chapter done, so I should update sometime next week.


	4. Close My Eyes

a/n: You have no idea how motivational reviews, alerts, and favorites are, so seriously thanks! And I'm sooo sorry for the late update! Real life caught up to me in a very serious way.

I hope the extra-long chapter makes up for the late update!

Disclaimer: APH does not belong to me.

Chapter 3: Close My Eyes

* * *

><p>Yao was true to his word, and came to see him nearly every day, only missing days to deal with senate matters with Ivan.<p>

The pain hadn't diminished, but there was no way he was going to complain about it. Creators, he didn't need Yao or Ivan thinking he was weak. Any chance at impressing Ivan had failed on their first official meeting, which he wasn't even conscious for!

On the seventh day of treatment Alfred had begun to see colors, objects and people where still a mishmash of blurs, but now they were at least slightly colored blurs. No longer was he living in a world of gray and black. It was around this time that Alfred noticed a light red shadow in the corner of the infirmary. That hadn't been there earlier, had it? He opened his mouth, but only a strangled scream left his lips, and he left the conscious world, and drifted off into the darkened world of whispered dreams.

Alfred awoke in his room, once again he was on the bed. He gingerly sat up, his body somewhat accustomed to the pain that came from treating his eyes. "It's bright," he grumbled. He moved his body dejectedly toward his corner, taking what he assumed was the blanket with him. He couldn't stand that bed. He sat down sluggishly, wrapping the heavy material around himself. It was rough on the outside, but the inside was _so_ soft, not even he could deny how nice it felt against his skin. He buried his head under the material, trying to hide his face from the sun's rays. It smelled heavily of mint and dirt, and Alfred found himself burrowing against the material. He inhaled deeply, this smell, Creators, he missed this smell! "Nature," he breathed out breathlessly. This material smelled as if June himself had sewn nature itself into every stitch. Alfred smiled lightheartedly at the thought, the smell lulling him back to sleep.

oOo

**June**: The elven god of crafts: it is he who taught the elves how to make bows, arrows, knives, and how to fashion clothing from animals and trees.

oOo

He awoke to the sound of someone knocking on his door. "What?" he yelled from the floor. The knocking abruptly stopped, and silence reigned.

Slowly, the door opened and a woman entered the room. "The healer asked m-me to tell you that he won't be able to make it today…" she mumbled, nervously shifting the tray of food in her hands. "He asked that I bring you your meals for the day."

Alfred watched the woman's blurry shape with suppressed glee. Besides Yao and Ivan, he hadn't actually spoken to anybody in this place. He smiled, and he heard the women gasp.

Alfred's smile vanished, and he lifted the blanket higher on his body, trying to hide the lyrium markings on his chin and neck. He nodded in understanding.

She didn't say another word, simply placed the tray of food on his bed and left the room as hastily as he she could.

"Of course…" he gingerly traced the lyrium marking on his chin, trying to recall a time when he wasn't considered a monster.

* * *

><p>Yao had gone to see Alfred first thing in the morning. The other day had been a disaster to say the least. Somehow word had got out that Ivan had gotten a slave.<p>

To say that Ivan was furious was an understatement. He had summoned all of the servant's in the palace for a meeting in the morning, threatening to dispose of anybody who even so much as looked at Alfred or even mentioned his name. They both knew that the information must have been leaked by one of the servants.

Yao sighed, yesterday had indeed been a _very_ long day.

He nodded at the two soldiers stationed at Alfred's room and entered.

A smile spread across his face as he spotted Alfred wrapped tightly with Ivan's cloak. He laughed and approached him. "Alfred, wake up," he gently called.

Alfred opened his eyes slowly, and glared at Yao.

"Come on, it's not that early."

"Is the sun even out?"

Yao smiled at Alfred's whining. Leave it up to him to complain about the least important things.

* * *

><p>"Do you think I'll be healed soon?" Alfred asked hopefully.<p>

Yao smiled at his enthusiasm. "Let's not rush things, I want to make sure I heal you as best as I can." Alfred nodded, and turned his head toward the corner of the infirmary.

There was no red shadow there. "Hey, did someone come in the last time?"

"What do you mean?" Yao asked confused.

"Over there," he pointed toward the corner, "last time I remember seeing something red there."

Yao looked toward the corner confused. Something red? "Oh," he laughed. "I suppose you wouldn't know, after all, he generally only comes near the end."

"So someone _does_ come."

Yao nodded. "Yes, Ivan comes. He's comes here all the time, in fact he's the one who carries you to your bed all the time."

"W-what?" he spluttered, the blush from his cheeks spreading to the tips of his ears. "He's here all the time? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Who do you think carried you back to your room all this time?" Yao questioned.

Alfred groaned in annoyance.

"What's the big deal? He carried you back to your bed that first night too."

Alfred snapped his head up, his face a mixture of emotions ranging from self-pity to anger. "No need to remind me!"

* * *

><p>Nearly a month had passed, and in all that time Alfred had barely exchanged a greeting with Ivan. Not that he minded. He preferred Yao's company, he even looked forward to their casual talks. Imagine that, him enjoying a mage's company.<p>

It still bothered him to know that it was Ivan who took him to his bed nearly every night. Wasn't this guy the ruler of the Tevinter Imperium? Couldn't he order someone else to take Alfred back to his room?

Alfred yawned, it was late, but Yao had told him that they would continue his treatment later in the night, apparently he and Ivan had something to do. Which was why Alfred was still awake at this ungodly hour.

More of his eyesight had returned, and if he squinted hard enough he could make out certain details on objects and people. This was how he realized that his blanket was actually a cloak.

He had asked Yao if he knew who's cloak it was because there was no way that it was for himself, it was far too big. Yao had said that he'd had no idea whose it was, but Alfred suspected otherwise. After all, there was a knowing look in Yao's eyes.

Alfred stood from his place in the corner, the cloak wrapped around his body like a second skin, and approached the window. He rested his head on the glass panel, looking out at the blurry world. His breath came out in puffs, and soon the window was fogged up, obscuring the outside world.

He smiled and wiped his hand on the cold glass. Lifting his head he squinted at the night sky, and the large blurry luminescent ball in the sky, cleared enough for him to make out the darkened spots on the moon.

Alfred's eyes sparkled as he watched the moon. The first time he could honestly recall seeing the moon was when he still lived with Sadik. He hadn't been allowed to do much in Sadik's care, in fact, the only time he was allowed out of Sadik's manor was if Sadik ordered him to go deal with political opponents.

His hands clenched the inside of the cloak tightly. He had been terrified when Sadik had first sent him out, and as he had waited in the tree tops for his chance to strike, he was positive that he would fail. That's when he saw it: the moon. It was so large, and closer than he had ever seen it. Suddenly all the anxiety he had been feeling about what he was going to do vanished. The moon… Mythal had created the moon, surely it was a sign to him that she would protect him.

Alfred was so caught up in his memories that he hadn't even heard the door to his room open. Yao and Ivan entered the room, both stopping at the sight of Alfred. He stood before them, bathed in the moons pale rays, his sky-blue eyes sparkling as they gazed at the sky.

Ivan found himself enraptured by the sight. Alfred seemed to be glowing, and if Ivan didn't know better he'd swear that Alfred was some benevolent being from the Fade.

"Beautiful," the words left Ivan's mouth quietly, but they were loud enough to break the illusion of benevolence that Alfred had somehow created.

Alfred turned, a startled smile on his face. "Your late," he stated, crossing his arms underneath the cloak.

Yao nodded, noticing how Ivan's attention had moved from Alfred to the cloak. "Are you sure? Maybe we were here earlier, and you didn't notice," he teased.

Alfred scoffed at the remark. His gaze moving from Yao to the red-clad individual he had come to identify as Ivan. "Why is he here?"

Yao stiffened at the comment, but Ivan laughed, the noise sounding innocent.

"Why indeed," Ivan replied, his accented voice intriguing Alfred all over again. He eyed the cloak, admiring the contrast between the charcoal-black material and Alfred's skin. "I've come to introduce myself," he stated. His eyes locked on to Alfred's shockingly blue eyes. "We're long overdue for introductions, aren't we?" Alfred nodded, and Ivan felt his smile grow. "Well then, I'm Ivan Braginski, the Archon of the Tevinter Imperium," he looked at Alfred with an unreadable expression, "and your master, apparently."

The instant that word was uttered, Alfred's demeanor changed. His eyes narrowed, and he looked haughtily at Ivan. "Is that right?"

Ivan smiled, and Yao could feel the tension in the room grow. He opened his mouth, but Ivan spoke first.

"Yes, it is," he smiled, and approached Alfred. "But you see, I don't really have a need for a slave." He stood before Alfred, a few inches separating their bodies from one another. "But it's not like I can set you free, not with you having these," his gloved finger ran down the exposed lyrium on Alfred's neck, "can't have you cause an uproar amongst the Magisters, can I?"

Alfred froze, images of Sadik running through his mind. He suddenly felt nervous and exposed, he quickly glanced at the blurry light of the moon, hoping to feel some kind of protection from it.

He bit his bottom lip, and steeled himself for what he was going to do. He forcefully removed Ivan's fingers from his neck. "Didn't you mother teach you that it's bad manners to touch someone without their permission?" He locked eyes with Ivan's, and was surprised to see that they were a deep violet. Where in the name of the Creators was this man from? Violet eyes where definitely not a common sight in the Tevinter Imperium, hell, not even blue eyes were common.

Ivan's eyes narrowed slightly, and he grinned, the sight unnerving Yao, but Alfred hardly seemed affected. "No, she didn't," he moved quickly and grabbed Alfred's wrist, pulling him closer to himself. "But seeing as you're _my_ slave, it shouldn't matter if I touch you."

"I thought you were against slavery?" Alfred accused, his voice filled with barely restrained anger. This bastard! He openly glared at Ivan, trying to pull his wrist from his grasp.

"Oh, I am," he responded cheerily. He held on to Alfred's gaze, infatuated with his recently healed sapphire eyes. "You see, I don't really need you. If I need something done I get a servant to go do it." He increased his hold on Alfred's wrist, surprised that the elf was somewhat succeeding at freeing it. This elf was truly exceptional. "You may be my slave," he continued, "but I won't have you doing what other slaves do."

Ivan released his hold on Alfred's wrist, his sadistic side pleased that he had left angry red marks on the elf's skin. "Seeing as you used to be a bodyguard, I don't see why you can't continue doing the same here."

"Bodyguard?" Alfred questioned.

"Yes, bodyguard," Yao replied quickly, hoping to diffuse the situation. "Sadik told us that you were his guard, I can't see why you can't do the same for Ivan."

Alfred swallowed heavily, not comfortable with the idea of being a personal guard again. The punishment for messing up had been severe. He unconsciously rubbed his hip, the wound was nothing more than a scar, but the memories of how he had received it were still fresh. He looked from Yao's fuzzy face to Ivan's. How could he change their minds?

"Why do _you_ need a bodyguard? I thought you were supposed to be this strong guy," Alfred questioned, squinting his eyes to get a good look at Ivan.

Ivan smiled, his violet eyes darkening as they eyed Alfred. "Oh?" he went for Alfred's wrist again, but Alfred stepped back, his blue eyes blazing angrily at him. "You think you have a choice?" he giggled. Alfred felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand up at the noise. He hesitantly met Ivan's gaze, feeling a slight panic enter his body as he noted the wild look in them.

He bit his lip, a nervous habit he had acquired under Sadik's ownership. "I can't see," he spoke mindlessly. "You can't expect to have a blind person protect you." No sooner had the words left his mouth that he wanted to smack himself. No way had he made himself look impressive. Damn…

"That won't be a problem." He turned away from Alfred, a dangerous smile on his lips. His violet eyes met Yao and he nodded.

Yao smiled, an uneasiness overcoming him. When was the last time that Ivan had smiled like that? Not since the last meeting with all the Magisters from the Tevinter Imperium, an event that only happened once a year, yet here it was. "Yes, about your eyes," he sat down on Alfred's bed, waiting for Alfred to follow his actions, but he didn't, merely watched Yao curiously. He sighed and continued, "You know how you haven't blacked out from the pain these last few sessions?" Alfred nodded, concern slowly seeping into his eyes. "There's a reason for that." He stared at Alfred, waiting until he held the blonde's gaze. He smiled gently, hoping that it would soften the blow of his next words, "I've reached my limit of how much I can heal them."

"What?"

"I've done all I can."

Alfred looked at him shocked. He was joking, he _had_ to be joking. There was no way, shouldn't the fact that he wasn't feeling pain a good thing? And—and what about what Ivan had said? He wanted him to be his guard, right?

"But—but he wants me to be his guard!" he shouted, pointing wildly to Ivan. "Come on, this is a joke, right, Yao?" he looked at him pleadingly, his cerulean eyes shining with delusional hope.

Laughter filled the room, and both Alfred and Yao turned to Ivan. His amethyst eyes shined darkly as he watched Alfred channel his frustrated emotions at him.

"And what's so—" he smacked Yao's hand away as he continued his tirade, "damn funny?"

"You."

Alfred's face flushed at the comment. "Me?" he whispered darkly.

Ivan nodded. "Surely you remember that Yao said he wouldn't be able to fix everything." The tips of his lips curled up as he watched anger wash over the elf. "Or is your elven brain incapable of comprehending that?" he goaded.

Before Yao could intervene Alfred flew toward Ivan, his body glowing as the lyrium markings activated. He ran towards Ivan prepared to throw a right punch at that pompous face.

Ivan smiled childlike, the wild look returning to his eyes. He had read Sadik's notes, knew to be wary of the elf's glowing body. It seemed that the elf's specialty was being able to phase through bodies, than solidify his own body, killing in a very violent and painful manner. He smirked, was his little elf planning on doing that?

He waited until Alfred was near, and just as Alfred's fist was about to make contact he side stepped from the blow, swinging his right fist at the elf's chest. The blow knocked the breath out of Alfred and he flew toward the wall. Ivan stood from his spot watching Alfred's crumpled form on the floor.

Yao watched on silently. He knew better than to get involved, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't intervene if Alfred was seriously in need of help. He would never admit it to Ivan, but over the course of healing Alfred's eyes the young elf had grown on him, Maker, he'd even go so far as to say that he saw Alfred as his little brother. Yao caught Ivan's gaze, and he looked sternly at his friend.

"Y-you're an ass," came Alfred's raspy voice. He slowly stood, holding his chest tightly. He glared at Ivan. He couldn't get close again, not unless he wanted another punch in the chest. But what else could he do? He needed to distract Ivan with some—his eyes widened. No. He wouldn't use _that_. He refused to rely on magic. He'd hit that bastard with his own skill. He would _have_ to make close combat work for him. "Heh," he laughed. "You're good, I'll give you that." He smiled, determination in his voice, "But don't think I'm gonna let you get away with that."

"Is that so? Large talk for a _blind_ elf."

Alfred smiled, the moon was shining brightly, engulfing the room in its pale light. Mythal was protecting him. "Get ready!"

He approached Ivan, his grin growing with each step he took. One hit, just one hit…

"I'll show you what a blind elf can do!"

He charged at Ivan, crouching low for more momentum.

Ivan watched him with amused eyes. He stood firmly in his spot, adrenaline coursing through his veins. How long had it been since someone had openly challenged him? Should he pity the elf, or congratulate him?

No sooner had he thought that when Alfred rammed his knees. He stumbled to the floor surprised, as Alfred stood on his knees, a dark glint in his eyes as he loomed over Ivan. His right arm swung back, muscles flexing as his arm sprang fourth, striking Ivan in the gut.

Ivan's eyes widened in surprise. He'd been hit? His elf had hit _him_. He growled, and forcefully grabbed Alfred's shoulder, the grip straining Alfred's muscles from throwing another punch. He used his grip to angrily push Alfred to the floor, lifting himself up in the process. Alfred attempted to push him off, but Ivan grabbed his wrists, pinning his arms to the floor. He straddled Alfred's stomach as he leaned down, lowering his head to Alfred's pointed ear.

"What the fuck do 'ya think you're doi—"

"Shut up," he whispered darkly, hot air tickling the sensitive skin of Alfred's ear.

He stilled, fear creeping through his body.

Ivan pulled away, looking down at Alfred from his position on his stomach. "You're going to be my guard," he stated, releasing his grip on Alfred's left wrist.

"No, I'm—"

"Yes, you will," he replied eerily calm. He pulled on Alfred's right wrist, bringing his body up awkwardly. "You don't have a choice, as the Archon and _your_ master, I command it."

Alfred stared incredulously at Ivan, he couldn't be serious, could he? Ivan giggled, he hadn't realized just _how_ expressive this slave was. "You proved your worth." He released his hold on the wrist, and Alfred's upper body fell to the floor abruptly.

Yao sighed, Maker… "Satisfied?" Ivan nodded, not moving from his spot on Alfred's stomach.

"What do you mean?"

Yao looked down at Alfred, and smiled apologetically at him. "He wanted to see if you were worthy of being his personal guard." He crossed his arms annoyed. "He was certain that you would refuse and get in a fight."

"It was all a plan?" Alfred asked confused. "Even the part about my eyes?"

"No, that was true, but," he stood and approached them on their spot on the floor, "while it's true that I've done all I can, that doesn't mean you won't be able to see just as well as us. I would have told you earlier, but Ivan told me to wait."

"So there's hope?"

"Yes, they're a fairly new invention in the Tevinter Imperium, mostly scholars use them, but I'm sure they'll be of great use to you as well. They're called glasses." Alfred looked at him confused. "You wear them on your face," he clarified.

Alfred sighed in relief, his body relaxing under Ivan. He had _no_ idea what the hell glasses were, but if he could see again then he didn't care what he had to put on his face.

He smiled, and his eyes sparkled with glee. All anger and doubt from earlier vanishing. Sure, why not? He'd be Ivan's bodyguard if it meant that he could see clearly again.

Ivan was no longer paying attention to the conversation between the elf and Yao. He saw Alfred's chapped pink lips moving, but he ignored the words, no, his attention was drawn to the elf's clear-blue eyes. They had changed drastically since Alfred had become his… property. They had been a milky light blue, but the more Yao healed them, the more vibrant those blue eyes turned, until two sapphire eyes revealed themselves. Those eyes had enraptured him, blue eyes were extremely uncommon in the Imperium, they were a far more common sight in Fereldan, where he suspected the elf was originally from.

And those eyes, they changed with his emotions, light and clear when he was happy, just like now, and dark and full of ill-intent when angered. He wanted to see the full spectrum of emotions in those eyes, how did they look in pain he wondered.

Alfred reminded him of nature, wheat fields and clear blue skies, surely he was the epitome of the Dalish spirit. Everything about the youth screamed untamed nature.

He giggled, drawing Alfred's attention. Thing's had certainly gotten interesting since the elf's arrival. Alfred looked at him, his eyes darkening as he met Ivan's violet gaze.

"Dude, get the hell off of me!" he yelled annoyed.

* * *

><p>"So," he looked expectantly at Yao, "am I supposed to follow that ass around all day?"<p>

"Only when he's leaving the palace, he's perfectly capable of protecting himself here," Yao responded. He looked at Alfred with a concerned frown. "Aren't you worried?"

"No, I did a decent enough job as a guard before."

"That's not what I was referring to, I meant are you sure you should be using that attitude on Ivan. He's not someone to take lightly." He looked away from Alfred, his head downcast. "You're really lucky you weren't seriously hurt," he muttered.

Alfred didn't respond, what could he say? Yes, he was worried. But there was no way he would ever admit that. "I won't change who I am."

Yao nodded, and stood. "Come on, let's go, Ivan should be finishing up talking with his last appointment."

* * *

><p>They had been standing in front of the double doors for nearly an hour, and Alfred found himself fidgeting under the gazes of the servants, he couldn't see their eyes clearly, but he could damn well feel their gazes on him. He'd kept away from the servants after his last run in with the girl who had brought him his meals.<p>

"Hey, am I scary looking?" he asked suddenly.

Yao blinked slowly, taking in the random question. "Scary?" he looked at Alfred thoughtfully. "No, you're not. Why the sudden question?"

Alfred leaned back, putting his weight on the wall. "You don't think these marks look, I don't know, intimidating?"

"Intimidating?" he repeated dumbly. He looked at Alfred and smiled. "They add a certain… ferocity, but once you open that mouth of yours, all sense of fear vanishes."

"You're an ass, hope 'ya know that." He smiled despite his words. "Anyway, I thought you said that he'd be finished by now."

"He should have been." He crossed his arms, his emerald cloak covering his hands. No sooner had he said that when the doors swung open and an irate Magister emerged. He eyed Yao warily, but as his eyes landed on Alfred, they took in his appearance greedily, so much so, that Alfred couldn't help the shiver that passed through his body.

Yao narrowed his eyes at the Magister, not happy with the way his eyes had lingered on Alfred as he walked away. He grabbed Alfred's arm, pulling him into the throne room. "Let's go, it's getting late."

Ivan was walking towards the door when they entered the room. "Ah, my apologies, I didn't think this matter would take so long to sort out." His eyes passed over Yao and landed on Alfred. "We should get going before the shops close, ready?"

"Of course you ass, we were waiting for you."

* * *

><p>The trip to the shopping district had been uneventful, much to Yao's relief. He had been watching Ivan, who seemed to be goading the elf the whole trip. It was weird. Seeing Ivan actually let someone treat him in the manner that Alfred was. What would Ivan do when Alfred finally crossed the line on what he would tolerate?<p>

Yao clenched his fist, suddenly feeling ill. What would he do? He was Ivan's childhood friend, but Alfred was just like— he glanced at the wheat-blonde elf, who was squinting his eyes at the passing buildings, trying to make the world clear. He was curious of the outside world just like him, just like Kiku. He had let him go to stay by Ivan, would he be willing to do the same again?

"Hey, Yao," came the voice of his doubts, "are glasses, like, a hat, or what?"

Ivan smirked lightly, and Alfred scowled at him. "No," he laughed lightly, "they're these little frames made from silverite, that bluish-white metal," Alfred looked at him blankly, and he couldn't help but laugh. "I'm not very good at explaining them, am I? You'll understand when you see them, just know that they're not a hat."

They rode in silence once more, until they reached the shopping district of Minrathous. Ivan was the first to emerge from the coach, then Yao, and finally Alfred. The building was small and unimpressive. Ivan opened the door, and they followed.

The room was bright, and Alfred squinted his eyes, caught off guard by the brightness of the room.

"Ah, Archon Ivan, a pleasure having you!" came a boisterous voice from Alfred's right. "We're ready to see your guard, Alfred was it?" she looked expectantly at the blonde, and Alfred froze, not really sure what the hell was going on.

"Is it possible for me to accompany him?" Yao asked, already grabbing Alfred's arm, prepared to accompany him whether or not the woman let him.

"Yes, you can oversee his examination if you'd like."

Alfred sat down on the only chair in the room, anxiety pumping through his veins. The room was pulsing with magic, and the lyrium markings were burning as a result of it. He bit his lip, looking at the nameless woman.

"Alfred," the woman spoke gently, "my name is Morgan, and I'm in charge of this little shop. The Archon messaged me earlier about your eyes. Not many people know how we make these spectacles, so let me explain it to you, okay?" Alfred nodded, his gaze flicking to Yao for a second. "We channel are magic into your eyes, and get a general feel for how bad your vision is, once we know that I send the information to the tranquil from the Chantry of Orlais, who will enchant a piece of glass that we will put into these metal frames," she pulled out the metal frame and handed them to Alfred to inspect.

oOo

**Orlais**: Founded by Emperor Kordillus Drakon, the Orlesian Empire or simply Orlais is one of the most powerful nations in Thedas. Val Royeaux is the capital of Orlais, as well as the Chantry's seat of power.

**Chantry**: The major religious group in Thedas. It's based on the Chant of Light, a series of teachings written by Andraste, the prophet of the Maker, and was founded by Kordillus Drakon, the first emperor of Orlais. Its followers are known as Andrastians.

**Tranquil**: Mages who are too weak of will to resist demonic possession or appear to be dangerous are forced to go through the Rite of Tranquility, which cuts off a mage's connection to the Fade: they can no longer dream. As a side effect, their emotional center is utterly removed.

oOo

He lifted the metallic object holding it close to his face so he wouldn't have to squint. How exactly was he supposed to wear this?

"Would you like to try them on?" Morgan asked. Alfred nodded, handing the frames back to her. She leaned closer to him, opening the frames and placed them on his face, the bridge of the frames resting on his nose, and the temples resting on either side of his head, the ends tucking behind his elven ear. "These frames were specially created for eleven ears," she stated.

They felt odd, not uncomfortable, but certainly weird. He looked out the clear, lenses, but the world remained the same. He smiled, he would see soon, with the help of these glasses, with the help of magic, he thought bitterly, but he pushed that train of thought away.

"You look good," Yao voiced proudly, "like a scholar."

"I'd rather look like a warrior," he complained.

Yao grinned, and Morgan laughed. "Ready to get started?" she asked.

"Heh, you bet!" he said ecstatically, ignoring his lyrium markings throbbing. Creators, he wanted to get this over with so they could leave, his body was burning with all the magic in the room.

* * *

><p>The process had been surprisingly painless. Odd, yes. But Alfred was beginning to believe that all things related to magic were odd in general. At least magic that didn't come from Sadik was odd and painless…<p>

They emerged from the room, spotting Ivan sitting nonchalantly on one of the chairs. "Good?" he asked as he spotted them.

"Yes, everything went well, I should get the lens back from the tranquils in about two weeks' time, and fitting them to the frame shouldn't take more than a few minutes, so I'll most likely contact you in two weeks."

"I'll send the payment then."

"Payment? You're gonna pay for them?" Alfred asked surprised.

"Of course," he walked towards Alfred, leaning into his personal space, his gaze resting on Alfred's lips. "After all, you belong to me, right? It's only natural that I take care of what's mine."

Alfred narrowed his eyes, but didn't respond.

Ivan smiled and nodded to Morgan, grabbing Alfred's wrist and walking out of the store.

* * *

><p>"Where are we going now?" he asked testily to Ivan.<p>

"Armor shop," Yao responded, his face in a book he had picked up from the previous shop.

"You can barely protect yourself in those clothes, what makes you think that you'll be able to protect me?"

"I think your underestimating my skills," Alfred stated confidently.

Ivan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Is that so? If you're so skilled, why weren't you capable of avoiding your previous owner's wrath?"

Alfred opened his mouth, but his argument died before it even reached the tip of his tongue. He looked away, shame clouding his eyes. He couldn't mention that jade stone Sadik had, if he did, Ivan would probably ask that bastard for it. He couldn't risk that, couldn't risk anyone finding out how weak he was against that _fucking_ stone.

Shame. Those cerulean eyes had darkened considerably at Ivan's words, and he gazed at them happily. But it was short lived joy, as Alfred closed his eyes dejectedly and turned away from him, more content to glare at the passing world then at Ivan.

The armory was much more impressive, even Alfred, with his fuzzy vision, was impressed by the sight of the building. "What are those things?" Alfred asked, pointing to two large dragons standing on either side of the door to the armory.

"The Old God, Dumat,"Ivan said distastefully.

"Old God?"

"The Old Gods, they were dragons who were said to teach our empire how to use magic." Yao stated, eyeing the statues critically.

"Yes, they're said to be responsible for the creation of blood magic," Ivan spat out angrily. "Enough, we didn't come here to speak of foolish men."

Just like in the glasses shop, the workers here weren't surprised to see Ivan. Had he warned everybody that he would be visiting so that they wouldn't be surprised?

"Archon, a pleasure to have your business. Is this the lad you mentioned in your letter?" a middle aged man asked, motioning toward Alfred. Alfred rolled his eyes, mystery solved. Ivan nodded, and the man motioned for Alfred to follow him. "Just stand up here, lad. Maker, quite tall for an elf, eh?"

"I'll say," Yao muttered. Ivan had made fun of the fact that he was shorter then Alfred. It wasn't his fault that nearly everything about Alfred defied the norm.

Alfred smiled at Yao's remark. He knew that brunette's height was a touchy subject.

The old man laughed, and pulled out some string. He saw Alfred's confused look and nodded in understanding. "Taking your height, so the armor fits properly," he explained.

He measured Alfred's height, his chest, hips, arms, and legs. All in all the process went a lot faster than getting his eyes examined.

Alfred walked off the elevated stand and approached Ivan and Yao.

"You don't need us around do you?" Yao asked.

"No, take the elf around the district, this will take a while." Yao nodded, and motioned for Alfred to follow him.

Alfred followed, turning back only to catch Ivan's violet gaze on him. The tips of Ivan's lips quirked up as he held Alfred's attention, captivated by those damn blue eyes. But his slight smile vanished as he turned his attention back to the shop's owner.

"What's he doing?" Alfred asked as they exited the shop.

"He's getting you a custom armor, we may have to wander around for a bit, Ivan's really picky about what he wants."

"I don't like this… why is he doing this?"

"Don't like what?"

"What he's doing. He's been nothing but an ass since we've begun talking, why is he suddenly concerned about me?"

"It's not a sudden thing. Remember, he's the one who gave me the okay to try and fix your eyes." He gently placed his hand on Alfred's shoulder and squeezed. "If it's about the money he's spending you shouldn't worry, it's not like he's low on funds."

It wasn't the money that concerned him, no, it was the emphasis that Ivan was placing on the fact that he **owned** him. "Whatever, let's go."

* * *

><p>They had wandered about the city for quite some time, no real destination in mind, not that Alfred minded.<p>

He was out.

Allowed to walk wherever he wanted, to hear the wind's lullaby as it rushed passed him. He smiled, turning to Yao with a grin. "Come on! I'll race 'ya!" he shouted, taking off before Yao even had a chance to react.

He ran, his muscles tightening and releasing with each stride. It was exhilarating, running through the throngs of peoples and shops, and Creators, when was the last time he'd done this? He laughed, the noise reaching Yao who struggled to keep up. He couldn't help but laugh as well, Alfred's joy seeming contagious.

Yao followed Alfred for blocks, occasionally yelling an apology for both himself and Alfred. Finally Alfred slowed down and Yao caught up with him. "W-what was that all about?" he asked through gasps.

Alfred scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, his face flushed from all the running. "Heh, got carried away." He smiled, and Yao couldn't help but return it. "It felt good though, right?" he wiped the sweat from his brow, laughing.

"Man, I haven't been out in forever… I don't know how you and Ivan can stand being coped up in that building."

"It's not that bad."

"Says the guy who can leave his room whenever he wants."

"You'll be able to leave your room soon enough."

"Will I be able to leave the palace?"

Yao hesitated, Ivan hadn't really mentioned much about the situation regarding Alfred to him, just that he _could_ leave his room. Where would Ivan let him go? Of course, where was Ivan half the time? "You can go to the gardens, they're fairly large." He straightened up, exhausted from the chase. "Are you hungry? I know a few places with some really good food around here." Alfred nodded, a soft smile gracing his lips.

They hadn't gotten very far before Alfred stopped Yao. "What's that?" he asked curiously, sniffing the air.

"Hmn?" he turned to where Alfred was looking, spotting a small shop that specialized in sweets from all over Thedas. His eyes softened as he watched the elf, had Alfred ever ate sweets?

"It's a sweets shop, want to try some?"

"Sweets? What the hell is that?"

"It's this—you know what? Let's just get some." He walked toward the building, Alfred walking beside him.

Inside that strange smell was even stronger. Alfred looked at the counter were numerous brown things were sprawled.

Yao approached the counter, his gaze never leaving Alfred. Not that Alfred seemed to notice. He looked the brown things over, they were all different shapes, and heights. What in the name of the Creators were they?

"Alfred, ready to go?"

He spun around, caught off guard. "That was quick."

Yao nodded in agreement, leading the way out of the shop.

"Here, these are Ferelden chocolates, there were a lot of sweets to choose from, but I have a feeling that you'll like these the best."

Alfred took the bag from Yao, there were numerous—what had he called them, chocolates?—in it. He pulled one out, aware of Yao watching his every move, and placed it in his mouth. His eyes widened, and a smile graced his face. Well, Yao had certainly not been kidding when he said that he would enjoy it.

"Ah, I see I was right," he chuckled.

They sat outside the shop, which had a few tables and chairs out.

They sat in silence, Alfred enjoying his sweets and Yao watching the passersby.

"So the rumors of a man in green chasing an elf were true," came a very familiar voice.

"Is that what they're say—" he stopped himself from continuing, noticing that Ivan's eyes were focused on Alfred, he turned his gaze to the elf, who was busy licking the melted remains of chocolate from his fingers. A vibrant pink tongue peeking out every so often. He seemed oblivious to their staring.

Yao turned away, eyeing his friend warily.

Ivan tore his gaze away, an emotion Yao had never seen passing his face. Was that doubt he had seen?

"Are you ready to go?" Ivan asked, his voice slightly strained.

Yao nodded, and looked at Alfred expectantly.

"Mhmm," he said between licks.

* * *

><p>For Alfred, the two weeks could not come fast enough. Ivan refused to let him out of his room, on the grounds that he was a liability. He wasn't quite sure what had crawled up Ivan's ass and died, but since their excursion into the city he'd been stricter then usual, even Yao was avoiding him. Any time Yao had any time to spare he would spend it with Alfred. He'd even brought him more of those chocolates!<p>

But not even chocolates could do much for Alfred's attitude on the start of the third week.

"Bastard, thinks he can get away with anything…" he paced his room angrily, tired of sitting at his corner. The day was half finished, and Yao had only stopped by to bring Alfred his meals, but as he prepared to leave he had winked at Alfred, claiming that Ivan would come by, but he wouldn't give up any more information besides that.

Which was why Alfred was currently pacing his room angrily, though not with a bit unease.

* * *

><p>The sun was going down when the door to Alfred's room opened, and Ivan entered. Alfred turned his head, meeting Ivan's gaze. Those blue eyes looked hesitant, and Ivan relaxed at their sight.<p>

"Come here, elf."

Alfred narrowed his eyes but complied. If Yao was being cautious around Ivan, he should too.

"So…" Alfred began, suddenly at a loss for words.

"Close your eyes."

"What?"

Ivan stared at him, his face unreadable, which did nothing to alleviate Alfred's worry.

"You better not do anything weird," he warned, closing his eyes slowly.

Alfred felt something cold touch the skin surrounding his eyes, and had to force his eyes to stay closed, but as he felt something slip behind his ears his eyes snapped opened in surprise.

Clear, vibrant violet eyes met Alfred's. The eyes contrasted against the platinum blonde hair that framed his face. _This_ was how Ivan looked? Alfred felt a tremor pass his body, and involuntarily took a step back. As he did so, he noted the rest of the room. Creators everything was so clear! In his excitement he grabbed Ivan's shirt, the crimson material was so intricately designed! And to think he thought it was just plain red clothing.

"Yes, it's a rather fine shirt, isn't it?"

"Huh?" Alfred replied, puzzled. He looked down at his hands and blushed, releasing the garment as if it had burned him.

"I take it they work then?" Alfred nodded his anger at having been unable to leave his room dissipating by the second. Ivan smirked, grabbing Alfred's chin as he did so, forcing those blue eyes that had haunted him the past two weeks to look at him. But his own eyes travelled down to those lips, where that damnable tongue had emerged, licking chapped pink lips that had been covered in chocolate not so long ago…

* * *

><p>an: Hope you enjoyed the chapter! And once again, really sorry about the late update!


	5. You'll Be Mine

a/n: I'm terribly sorry for the delay! I meant to finish writing this chapter last month, but I was so busy with exams and projects that I sort of lost track of everything.

I'm so glad that you guys are enjoying the story! Your guy's comments are what pushed me to find time to work on this story, so thank you!

Disclaimer: APH does not belong to me.

Chapter 4: You'll Be Mine

* * *

><p>What was so special about this elf? Maker, he wished he knew.<p>

Ivan leaned forward slightly, but Alfred leaned back, a tight smile on his face. He wiggled out of Ivan's grasp, looking critically at the tall pale man, oblivious to Ivan's inner turmoil.

"This means I can finally leave this room, right?" Alfred asked excitedly, ignoring the strange look on Ivan's face.

"Yes," he replied lightly, his eyes never looking away from the elves blue orbs. "However," he looked darkly at the blond, the threat of punishment in his tone, "you're not to leave the palace, unless I say you can."

The elf nodded, a large smile spreading across his face. Ivan found himself returning the smile, his lips curling up seeing the blond so excited. He couldn't help but notice how the lyrium markings beneath the elf's chin stretched as Alfred smiled. How had the elf not been driven to madness? Why had Alfred been spared when Natalia—_Natalia_. He clenched his fist, all traces of his smile disappearing at the thought of his sister.

The elf had been spared, and Ivan would not rest until he understood why that was when so many others—like his sister— were not. He turned away from the elf, his mind reeling with anger. "I expect you to begin training tomorrow, do you understand?"

Alfred nodded, too delighted to even be angry over Ivan's tone.

Creators, of Sadik could see him now! Hah, he'd rub in the fact that he could see just to see the look on that pompous face!

* * *

><p>Why had he never realized just how big this place was? He had waited a few minutes to pass once Ivan had left, couldn't let him know just how desperate he was to leave the room. He bolted from the room after what seemed like hours, pleasantly surprised to see that the guards who had been stationed at his door where no longer there, but now he wished they were.<p>

He had been walking aimlessly throughout the halls, exploring the countless rooms, Creators he was completely lost. "Why the hell does this place have so many rooms?" he yelled angrily.

He'd seen a few servants as he wandered the halls, but they all ignored him, some even turning back the way they had come from just to avoid him.

He sighed. He'd finally gotten out of his room only to get lost. "I'm sure Ivan would have a blast knowing that…" he grumbled, his voice the only noise filling the hall. Or so that was the case, until he entered another hall.

"—seen him? Where?" Alfred stood still at the voice. He smiled, taking off toward the direction of the voices. Yes! He knew who that was.

Alfred turned the corner, only to find Yao speaking with a servant. He glanced up as Alfred entered the hall.

Yao smiled, dismissing the servant and approaching Alfred. "I've been looking for you!" he eyed the blond and his smile broadened. "The palace is quite big, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is," Alfred crossed his arms across his chest, annoyed by the comment. "But it's not like I got lost or anything."

"Is that right?" Yao smiled, his tone disbelieving. "How are the glasses?"

He smiled, blue eyes shining in obvious joy. "Great!" He looked at Yao's face enthusiastically, as if it were the first time he had truly seen him, and arguably it truly was. Brown hair and chocolate eyes, he was the complete opposite of Ivan. These two were supposed to be friends from childhood, but their accents weren't even similar.

Yao clasped his hands together excited, slightly startling Alfred. "I'll show you the gardens, trust me, you'll definitely be spending a lot of time there."

* * *

><p>The walk to the gardens had taken some time as Yao was teaching Alfred how <em>not<em> to get lost in the palace. Only when Yao was satisfied that Alfred would no longer get lost did he take Alfred to the gardens.

The first thing that Alfred noticed as he stepped out of the fortified structure was the smell. He closed his eyes, deeply inhaling the earthy aroma he had been denied for so long. Creators… he opened his eyes, noticing the small smile adorning Yao's face. He smiled back, his mood turning lighter.

The garden was vast, he could tell that much just by entering the grandiose entrance. Various trees littered the garden, some so large they obscured the view of the sky. Alfred approached the tree nearest him, running his finger down the trunk of the tree, following the random lines of the dark mahogany bark.

He raised his head, his hair falling back from his face, exposing his eyes to the elements. "Falls already here," he muttered, noticing the orange and brown leaves littering the top of the trees. He looked back down, turning to face Yao.

"Yes, and soon winter will be upon us." He walked ahead of Alfred, walking deeper into the mishmash of varying hues of yellow, orange, brown, and the occasional green decorating the garden.

They hadn't even walked that long when Alfred spotted it. There to one side of the garden were the largest flowers Alfred had ever seen. He walked away from Yao, his eyes locked onto the stunningly bright yellow petals. He reached out tentatively, afraid that he would damage the plant. The petal of the flower felt smooth against his skin. "It looks like the sun," he said in awe.

"Ivan says the same. They're called sunflowers, a rather fitting name."

Alfred nodded, his hand moving from the petals to the center of the flower, where he gently prodded the center, only to find it a sticky mess. "Gross!" he pulled his hand away, rubbing his hand on his clothes, a look of disgust on his face.

Yao chuckled, which earned him a glare from the blond elf. "Did you know this flower is Ivan's favorite?"

"Figures," he said slightly annoyed, looking sternly at the flower as if it had wronged him somehow. He leaned forward sniffing the center of the flower curiously. It smelled like fresh dirt and freshly watered vegetation. He smiled lightly, silently approving of Ivan's favored flower. Is this why Ivan liked the plant because it smelled like nature, or was it because of the flowers appearance to the sun? He stroked the stem of the flower, noting that it was rough and hairy.

Alfred stood back, watching the sunflowers stand defiantly in the garden. The various plants surrounding them swayed in the breeze, but they barely budged. Just like the Dalish, this flower wouldn't give up. He hated to admit it, but Ivan had good taste in plants.

He inched away from the sunflowers, his blue gaze continuing to flicker back to the sun-bright flowers.

Trees. There where trees everywhere! Alfred had never seen so many different types clustered together. Various types filled the garden. "Look at those," he pointed to a rather large cluster of trees, their branches hanging low as if it were sad and weeping. "Doesn't it look like their crying?"

"That's how they earned their name, they're called weeping willows." Yao clarified, standing a good distance away from the trees. "Do you know the superstition regarding them?" Alfred shook his head, a sense of dread filling him. Crap, he just had to point out those trees, didn't he? "They say a single ghost inhabits each weeping willow." He looked at the trees warily. "Of course it's just a superstition," he added hastily, catching the look of slightly repressed horror on Alfred's face.

He stepped back, laughing hollowly, a stained smile on his face. "Yeah, a superstition…"

Alfred looked adorable. His face was flushed in what Yao assumed was embarrassment. He almost felt bad, who would have guessed that the elf had a fear of ghost? "If you're that worried I could get you some of the branches."

"W-worried?" he choked out. "No, not me." He backed away slowly, discreetly. "Wait, how would getting the branches help, don't they live in the tree?"

"Yes, they do live in the tree, but the branches keep them trapped to the tree. If you put some in front of your room it prevents them from entering."

"… I though you said it was a superstition?" he asked seriously.

"It is."

Alfred stared at him blankly. He turned from the trees, walking away _calmly_, no way was he scared. The wind blew past the trees, the gust rushing past Yao and Alfred. He stopped his walk, his face going pale as he swore he heard whispers in the wind calling his name.

He had called for a race through the gardens, rushing away from the weeping willow trees as fast as he could. He didn't stop until he smelled a pungent sweet smell in the air.

He stopped, gasping for breath as he tried to discern where the smell was coming from. He looked about, realizing that Yao hadn't caught up with him yet. Where had he lost him? The brown-haired man had been behind him a few seconds ago.

Alfred walked toward the smell, within seconds he found the source of the heady aroma. There, in what seemed to have overtaken a section of the garden, stood various roses of varying height and color, so grand was their invasion of the garden that the branches of the roses had begun to grow about the trees, surrounding them. He walked toward them, his mind in a haze, trying to recall a memory he no longer had. He bit his lip thoughtfully. "Huh," he excitedly reached for one of the roses, the petals a deep scarlet red, the stem still a vivid green.

"Fuck!" he pulled his hand back, looking at his pale finger suddenly turning as red as the rose he had just admired. He placed his finger in his mouth, the familiar taste of metal engulfing his senses.

"Are you alright?" Alfred froze, turning slowly he was met with the concerned face of Yao. He nodded. His cheeks heating up. He knew it was childish, but he couldn't help but feel paranoid after their talk of ghosts.

"Here, let me see your finger." He complied, removing the wet digit from his mouth, placing his hand in Yao's. "Not to injured," he observed, he smiled gently, sending a small burst of magic into the elf's hand.

Alfred grunted. There was simply no way he would ever get used to magic. "These roses are the largest in Minrathous, I'd even wager the largest in the Tevinter Imperium. They haven't bloomed like this in quite some time," Yao mused, his eyes glazing over deep in thought. He sighed depressingly, shaking his head he smiled, catching Alfred's gaze. "Do you like roses?"

"Yeah, Sadik had some." He removed his hand from Yao's grasp, overlooking the healed cut. Nothing remained but a faint white line. One more scar to match his collection…

"Thanks," he mumbled lowly, his breath coming out in puffs of smoke. Yao nodded, and Alfred returned his gaze to the roses.

"Ivan prefers that the roses in his garden have thorns, I take it that Sadik," he spat the name distastefully, "preferred the thorn less?"

"Yeah," Alfred replied. He reached out for the same rose as before, mindful of the thorns this time. Sadik's roses had definitely lacked them, but was that such a bad thing? He expertly cut the stem, bringing the rose to his face. He closed his eyes, greedily inhaling the intoxicating scent of the rose. It was stronger this time, he couldn't quite recall the memory, but it felt… warm? Yes, warm.

He opened his eyes dreamily, looking at the rose appreciatively. "Ivan may be on to something with that whole thorn thing." He extended the rose to Yao, who lightly smelled it.

"Where the roses not as pungent as these?" he asked curiously.

"Yeah, they weren't as red too."

They wandered about, Alfred twirling the rose, occasionally he would miss and knick his finger, but he refused to let Yao heal it on the pretense "that it was just a scratch."

In truth, Yao wasn't concerned until he noticed that the stem had transitioned from a deep green to a startling red that was on the verge of rivaling the rose's crimson petals. Just as he opened his mouth to voice his concerns he shut his mouth. How had he not noticed? He guiltily took in Alfred's appearance, noting that Alfred's cheeks were lightly dusted red. No wonder Alfred hadn't wanted him to heal the small cuts, the wounds were most likely keeping his hand warm.

"Hey, why are yo—"

Alfred stopped talking as he felt something heavy, something _warm_ being placed on his shoulders. Alfred looked down, a soft emerald cotton material catching his gaze. Had Yao given him his cloak? He looked up, but the brown-haired man had walked on ahead, looking about the garden as if nothing had happened.

Alfred couldn't help the small smile that graced his face as he chased after Yao. He wasn't too bad for a mage, even if he was really into the whole "big brother" thing.

"Ready for another race?" he asked breathlessly, already passing by Yao. He ran ahead, the rose falling from his hand as he gripped the cloak tightly.

Both were oblivious to the narrowed violet eyes watching them race off through the winding gardens.

* * *

><p>Yao hadn't expected to stay in the gardens for so long. It was already late when he had found Alfred, but he couldn't help but show him the garden, they hadn't even gone through the whole thing, but it was far too dark to truly appreciate the foliage.<p>

Only a certain portion of the gardens were specifically modeled for viewing at night, and that spot was especially created for Ivan.

Speaking of Ivan, where was he?

He had dropped off Alfred in his room and had gone looking for his light-haired friend, but he hadn't been in the throne room. "Could he have gone to his study?" he mused out loud.

He walked briskly toward Ivan's personal study. He was supposed to overlook Ivan's meeting with a Fereldan emissary, but Ivan had dismissed him before the meeting took place. He hadn't questioned Ivan's motive, he was obviously in a bad mood. That was the original reason he had gone to see Alfred, he had assumed that they had gotten in some fight, but the elf wasn't injured, just lost.

The study was empty, and beside the cackling noise of the fireplace there was no other noise. "Ivan?" he called out, already not expecting a response. He walked toward Ivan's desk, sitting at the edge. His deep-brown eyes scanned the room slowly, as if the room would tell him where Ivan was.

He looked down at the desk and smiled lightly, "He never was one for organization." He grabbed the various papers, all about Fereldan he noted, and walked around to the occupant's side of the desk.

He opened the last drawer on the right, placing the documents within the compartment before his brain registered what he had just seen inside. Surely he just imagined it. He looked at the stack of papers with heavy eyes, and bit his lip apprehensively as he removed the documents.

"Fuck."

What more could he say, Maker only knew that was the most appropriate word he could think of for the situation.

A rose. More specifically a scarlet rose with a matching red stem. He pinched the bridge of his nose, a tired sigh leaving his mouth. "You've got the wrong idea, Ivan," he confessed to the room, as if it would tell its true occupant Yao's confession. Well, he didn't need to guess where Ivan was now. He placed the documents back in the drawer, the blood-stained rose beneath the documents.

* * *

><p>He didn't know whether to smile or be sad that he had been right. He had found numerous servants scurrying away from the training grounds, some even warning him of Ivan's fury.<p>

Wasting no time he waltzed towards the training grounds, his caution increasing as he noted how cold it was becoming with each step towards his destination

Andraste guide him…

By the time he reached the training grounds his cheeks were raw-red from the gust of chilled wind that had assaulted him, and his cloak had done very little in retaining _any_ body heat. It always astounded him that Ivan could stand such weather.

Yao was not looking forward to this exchange.

He ran his hand through his hair, trying to regain some composure.

What appeared like glaciers stood in the training grounds, Yao gripped his cloak tighter around his body, he wasn't even near them and he could feel his blood freezing in his veins. "What the hell…?" He breathed deeply, struggling to grasp _any_ oxygen. It was eerily quiet, not even the wind was blowing, but outside the grounds was another matter.

There in the center of the frozen wasteland stood Ivan.

Yao stood frozen at the sight.

He silently watched as Ivan raised his arm, the center of his palm engulfed in a pure white light, the intensity growing by the second. Yao looked away, closing his eyes tightly.

The light shot off in a howl of screams, filling the already tundra-like region with a bone tingling gale of icy air.

By instinct he covered his face, turning his back to Ivan, the old wound on his back throbbing from the ice-cold storm. He felt the wind die down and slowly he opened his eyes. He turned back, only to see Ivan's violet gaze on him.

He shivered, and Maker only knew that it wasn't from the freezing wind.

"Ah, Yao," Ivan greeted, a sardonic smile gracing his lips.

"I take it that the representative from Fereldan brought bad news," Yao stated cautiously.

Ivan turned his back to Yao, his hand barely engulfed in the same blinding light as before, but instead of wind, a mix of bluish-white lightning filled the grounds, striking the glacial chunks. The sound of the impact was deafening, and Yao found himself grimacing at the noise, the blast filling the air with an electrical charge.

"They know," he stated with an innocent smile, but the dark aura surrounding Ivan was anything but. He saw the confused look on Yao's face and his innocent smile widened. "They heard about the elf."

"Oh."

"He felt that Fereldan shouldn't ally themselves with us." Ivan's eyes darkened, and Yao consciously took a few steps back, recognizing the bloodlust in those eyes. "I may have made things difficult for you."

Maker, he didn't expect word of Ivan owning a slave to reach Fereldan so soon. But he should have expected it, after all, it wasn't often that Ivan did something so out of character. He ran his hand through the tangled mess his hair had become. He didn't even want to imagine what Ivan had done with the envoy during that meeting, the empire _needed_ this alliance, besides the dwarves of Orzammar the Tevinter Imperium had no other allies.

oOo

**Deep Roads**: An extensive network of underground roads that once belonged to the dwarven kingdom.

**Orzammar**: With the sealing of the Deep Roads Orzammar has become the last stronghold of the dwarven race, which had once sprawled over the entire underground of Thedas. First contact with the surface world was through the Tevinter Imperium. Both government and society based on a caste system.

oOo

"They're questioning your motives."

A nod was all he received.

"He asked me to give him up… as if setting him free were such an easy thing," Ivan said curtly.

Yao nodded, it would be a mess to grant Alfred freedom from being Ivan's slave, the Magisters would have a riot amongst themselves for him. He would become a slave for someone else, and unlike Ivan, his new owner _would_ treat him like a slave. However, looking at the cold fury on Ivan's face, Yao wasn't so sure that they had the same reason for refusing the Fereldan envoy.

"That elf will **never** be free," he said with a twisted conviction.

Ivan's violet eyes gaze locked onto Yao's, his face unreadable. "So, did you enjoy your day in the gardens?"

Yao didn't even bat an eyelid at the comment.

"Yes," he said calmly, carefully choosing his words. "I hadn't even thought of going to the gardens when you dismissed me," he said truthfully. "I had gone to check on Alfred when I found him wandering the halls, he claimed he wasn't lost, but I'm not so sure he was being truthful."

At this Ivan laughed lightly, his hostile disposition somewhat diminishing.

"I figured I should show him the gardens, at least that way I could make sure he wouldn't get lost again." His chocolate-brown eyes looked at Ivan brightly. "He said he wasn't a fan of your sunflowers, but I think he was lying about that, too. You should have seen the way his eyes kept flicking back towards them as we walked away."

"Oh, is that right?" he asked, amused.

Yao nodded, grasping his cloak tighter around his body. "However, he's not particularly fond of the cold."

"I'm sure I can change his mind on that matter."

* * *

><p>Alfred's eyes snapped open as he felt the biting cold of ice on his cheek. He smacked the source of his discomfort away, all traces of sleep vanishing from his face.<p>

"What the hell?" There before him, crouched down and facing him with an amused face was Ivan. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Good morning to you, too," he replied happily, his eyes a smoldering violet. "Surely you remember that I said you would begin training today?" Alfred nodded and Ivan pointed toward the bed. Curiously he glanced over to what Ivan had pointed at, but without his glasses on all he could see was a mass of black things scattered about.

He attempted to stand, only to be pushed back down by Ivan.

Alfred glared at him, his sky-blue eyes darkening as he was overcome by annoyance. "Dude, I can't see what you're point—"

But before he could even finish his complaint Ivan placed cool metallic frames on Alfred's face.

Alfred was given a clear view of that damn smirk as his eyes adjusted to being able to see clearly. "Gee, thanks," he said sarcastically.

Ivan stood, extending his hand to Alfred, who looked at it dumbfounded. He was offering his hand? Why would he do that? He wanted to refuse the help, but the longer he looked at the extended hand, he wasn't sure that he could.

He shouldn't take it, he knew what would happen if he did, Ivan would remove his hand, maybe even sneer at him for thinking him foolish enough to take it.

But he hadn't removed his hand.

With ease Ivan helped Alfred from the floor, holding on to Alfred's hand longer than necessary, but the elf hadn't said anything when he did finally release his hand. He just walked past Ivan, toward the bed.

He looked to the pile of armor lying on his bed confused. "_This_ is what you ordered?" Creators, he could have guessed that Ivan wasn't the creative type, but this was _bad_.

"That's not what I ordered for you," Ivan replied annoyed, walking toward the elf. "But this should suffice until your proper armor is completed."

"Don't move," he said suddenly, his voice lower than usual. Alfred froze as he felt Ivan place something warm and soft on his shoulders.

"A cloak?" Alfred asked aloud, his tone surprised. Unlike the shoddy armor the cloak felt and looked amazing.

"Yes, a cloak," he chuckled lowly, pressing his chest to Alfred's back. His arms sneaking underneath Alfred's arms. "Here, let me tie it for you."

Alfred held his breath as he watched Ivan's hand's swiftly tie a knot. Only exhaling when said hands pulled away.

But it was a short lived reprieve, as Ivan turned him around, so that they were face-to-face. "It looks good on you," he declared, his violet eyes roaming over Alfred's body.

Now there wouldn't be a reason for the elf to borrow **anyone's** cloak.

He wanted to boast that he could make _anything_ look good, but Ivan's face was emotionless, something Alfred wasn't used to. Give him an Ivan with a smirk—even one who was mad— at least then he'd know what he could get away with.

"… Yeah," Alfred replied awkwardly, trying to push Ivan away. The action proved fruitless, and if nothing else, it caused Ivan to lean forward. "Personal space, dude," he growled out annoyed.

The tips of Ivan's lips curled, a smirk appearing on his once impassive face. "Put on the armor and I'll consider moving."

Too close. Ivan was far too close. Alfred's cheeks lit up as he anxiously licked his lips, oblivious to how Ivan stiffened at the action. He turned, a rather hard thing to do considering just how close Ivan was to him. "… Get out and I'll put this crap on."

He didn't see Ivan move, so much as feel him. He stared hard at the wall, waiting for Ivan to leave the room. Eventually he heard the door open, but he didn't hear it close. What was Ivan waiting for? He could feel Ivan's violet gaze on him, but he be damned if he was going to turn and ask Ivan what he wanted. Eventually he heard Ivan walk out of the room, and the door close.

Alfred glanced down at the bed, looking at the armor in distaste. Creators he should have asked how he was supposed to put this crap on.

On the fourth attempt he managed to put the entirety of the armor on, the only things really giving him trouble the chestpiece and gloves. "This is so stupid," he whined, looking at himself. The chestpiece had been a pain to put on, not to mention its appearance. It looked like nothing more than chainmail which had been coated in a black substance. Yes, it would go under the armor, but that didn't mean much as the main armor was just a very thick cotton material of the same looking black color. It looked like it could withstand a hit, but Alfred wasn't sure it could even do that.

Thank the Creators for the cloak, the damn armor didn't cover his arms. He didn't want anybody looking at his markings. He looked darkly at his arms, the lyrium tendrils exposed for the world to see. Ivan's custom armor had damn well cover his arms.

Truly the only redeeming piece of the whole set was the gloves. Alfred flexed his gloved fingers, smiling as he did so.

The door opened and Ivan entered the room, looking disappointed.

"It will have to do."

"You're disappointed? Dude," he crossed his arms across his chest in annoyance, "If anyone should be disappointed it should be me." Ivan didn't reply, but the mildly amused smile that graced his face did nothing but annoy Alfred further. "Is this the only reason you came by?"

Ivan continued to smile, but the chill that filled the room spoke volumes of how he really felt. "Do I need a reason to see _my_ elf?"

Alfred narrowed his eyes viciously, and Ivan couldn't help but be pulled in by those sky-blue eyes, which reminded him of the turbulent seas. The audacity of this slave, not even freemen looked at him with such scorn.

"No, this isn't the only reason I'm here. You begin your training today, or did you forget?"

* * *

><p>The walk hadn't been too bad, though Ivan severely lacked the understanding of personal space, or at least he did when it came to Alfred.<p>

The training grounds were passed the gardens, which Alfred had hoped to visit again. "Hey," he began nonchalantly, his azure eyes gazing at the tops of the various trees, "Where's Yao? I'm surprised you didn't drag him with you."

Ivan's smile faulted at the question. "He's busy… he won't always have time for you," Ivan replied cryptically, his tone cold.

He glared at the elf, who was simply ignoring him. _Him_. Who was the Archon, who struck fear into the hearts of not only humans, but the beast-like Qunari. They feared him, respected him. But this elf didn't.

And Maker, it drove him mad. He couldn't get the damnable elf out of his head, not even when he was meeting with important Magisters, or trying in vain to sleep. He wasn't even free of him while he _bathed_. But the elf clearly didn't share in his frustrations.

No, Alfred's mind was elsewhere. Ivan clenched his fist as he walked beside the elf, a dark aura surrounding him. Alfred was his, the thought hadn't sat well with him before, but now…

"Why is it so cold?" Ivan glanced at Alfred, watching as the elf's hair was tousled by the wind, his clear sky-blue eyes reflecting the arctic landscape that had once been the training grounds. He could never tire of the sight. The elf surrounded by the cold. _His_ elf surrounded in Ivan's own element.

"I heard how much you love the cold," he replied innocently, warmth rushing through his veins as Alfred's gaze met his own. "What, can't handle the cold?" he asked mockingly.

"I can handle anything!" Alfred replied offended. He removed his cloak, throwing the lush garment at Ivan, who easily caught it with a growing grin.

"I'll show him…" he grumbled to himself, walking away from Ivan, and approaching the center of the grounds. His exposed skin already red from the raw gusts of wind in the area. He squinted around, noticing an object stabbed into the ground. He approached it quickly, trying to refrain from rubbing his arms. He didn't need to turn around to know that Ivan was watching him. He could feel the damn mages gaze on him.

Alfred stopped before he reached the embedded object. He looked at the large sword apprehensively. How did he know? He risked a glance at Ivan, who hadn't moved since catching Alfred's cloak. Had Sadik told Ivan his choice in weaponry?

He reached out for the sword. His hands were clammy, and he couldn't stop the trembling of his hands as he gripped the hefty blade. He pulled the blade out, swinging it from side-to-side.

The weight felt foreign and Alfred grunted. "When was the last time I used one of these?" he thought out loud. As if to answer him, the wound on his hip stung unexpectedly.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" he shouted.

Ivan smiled, the wind carrying Alfred's voice to him. He pointed toward a column of ice to Alfred's right, as it should have been obvious that it was his target.

Alfred stalked towards it, his body aching for some form of action.

He charged toward the large column of ice, his blade coming down in a long arc. He continued this, occasionally changing the angle, but for the most part just trying to familiarize himself with the weight in his hand.

Ivan watched him, impressed. Alfred clearly needed practice, but he had been able to lift the blade without any problem, so he wasn't too out of shape. Where was his blue-eyed slave hiding such strength?

Alfred had been striking away at the column of ice for nearly an hour. He raggedly gasped for air, his form weakening as he continued his assault. How long did Ivan expect him to continue? Did he expect him to break it? He stopped his assault, his breath coming out in puffs of smoke. He looked glumly at Ivan, who had moved closer to him. "Fuck this," he murmured.

Thrusting the bulky sword into the ground he stalked off towards Ivan. His arms were sore, Creators, he was lucky that his arms hadn't given out yet.

His face was flushed from both the biting cold and exhaustion. He stumbled slightly, the boots felt bulky. Alfred extended his hand out to Ivan, waiting impatiently for the tall man to hand him back his cloak.

Oh? Ivan raised his brow at the extended hand. He reached out for it, tugging the blond toward him. Before Alfred could even register what had happened, Ivan wrapped the elf in his cloak, taking his time tying the knot. His gloved fingers gently grabbed Alfred's chin, forcing the blonde's confused eyes to meet his cool gaze.

"You looked cold."

And with that, he turned away from the blonde, walking out of the training grounds.

What had just happened? Alfred griped the cloak tightly, his skin tingling from the sudden warmth that filled his body. "Fucking mages," he spoke to the retreating form of Ivan. "Hey," he shouted angrily, "wait up!"

* * *

><p>His training continued like this, that is, until the ice thawed. Instead of frozen columns, his opponents were replaced with wooden blocks and stuffed dummies. Ivan would occasionally come and see him, but he didn't stay long.<p>

What unnerved him was that Ivan wouldn't even announce his presence, often times Alfred wouldn't even realize that Ivan was there until he would catch the platinum-haired man walk away. But Yao had begun to go see him practice.

"Where have you've been?" Alfred asked moodily, taking a break from training. "You know you had me hanging out with Ivan?"

Yao smiled, his eyes filled with warmth. "I'm going on a diplomatic trip to Fereldan," he answered. "I need to make sure I have everything ready, it's a really important trip." Besides, he _knew_ it hadn't been that bad. Ivan had been in a pretty decent mood, and Alfred didn't appear injured, so surely they must have been getting along somewhat.

"How long is that gonna take?" Alfred asked nervously, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

"I'll be gone for nearly a month, maybe more depending if things work out well."

Fantastic. He griped his sword, walking away from Yao. More alone time with Ivan.

* * *

><p>"Ah," Alfred turned towards the voice, startled, "I've been looking for you."<p>

He sighed drowsily, turning back toward the sunflowers. "I already trained, ask Ivan, he was there the whole time."

Yao smiled, walking towards Alfred. "We're waiting for you."

"We?" he asked confused, his voice still tinged with sleep.

"Ivan's going out," Yao answered casually.

"So… ?" Alfred began, but then his eyes widened as the implications of Yao's words sunk in. Out. He was going to go outside!

* * *

><p>Alfred leaned forward, his cloak hanging loosely around his form. "So," he began slowly, glancing between Ivan and Yao, "where are we going?"<p>

"The Silent Plains," Ivan replied dangerously.

Yao crossed his arms, annoyance clear on his face. "It would make a good gift," he repeated automatically, and Alfred guessed that Yao must have said that sentence more than once, considering how both men were staring at each other.

Yao turned away, his weary gaze meeting Alfred's. "We're here to get a plant. It's extremely rare, and the only thing that grows in that area."

"So, a desert?"

"No," Ivan replied. "Even a desert has life in it. Those accursed lands only hold life for one thing, a sickly plant that looks of death, but lures fools to their demise with its smell." He lips curled up as he stared at Yao. "Maybe it truly wasn't a bad choice after all."

Alfred scrunched up his face in disgust. Who the hell would want that?

"We don't need the plant, just the roots of it," he directed toward Alfred. "If you make it just right, you'll have a vial of perfume that smells better than any rose. I think it would make a fitting gift to the King of Fereldan."

Alfred looked dubiously at Yao. There was no way that something could smell better than a rose, hadn't Yao smelled the roses in the garden?

"Well, if they don't like it, you can tell them that Ivan himself went looking for their gift."

"Or, you can tell them how the Archon's slave was on hands and knees looking for their gift," Ivan responded back, his eyes dark and his gaze not leaving Alfred for the rest of the trip.

* * *

><p>He knew that he shouldn't have been surprised when they reached the Silent Plains, but he couldn't help it. The land was desolate, and so eerily <em>quiet<em>.

It truly was dead. Alfred gripped his cloak tightly, not that he was cold. The air was stiff and musty, as if time itself had been frozen here. He didn't like it.

He glanced about the land, despite its namesake there were massive hills scattered about the land.

Ivan and Yao had already walked away from him, leaving him near the carriage they had come in. He ran toward them, not wanting to be left behind. He glanced up the various hills cautiously, something about the area seemed… off.

The wind picked up and as he ran after his two companions, he stopped abruptly, the color fading from his face as the wind rushed passed him. He quickly turned, his eyes scanning the area with large eyes. He hadn't imagined that, had he? He ran his gloved hand through his hair, nervously he stood still, his gaze going back towards the hills. "What the hell…" he muttered. Whispers. He had definitely heard it. He turned back towards Ivan and Yao, glancing back once more as he jogged toward the pair.

Alfred had finally reached Ivan, who was watching him lazily. "Having fun?"

"Oh yeah," he relied sarcastically, walking past him.

But he didn't get very far as Ivan gripped his wrist. Alfred stiffened, the markings on his skin tingling. "The veil is thin here," his grip tightened, and Alfred gritted his teeth in response. "Don't do anything foolish. Demons can easily leave the Fade and enter this area."

"Why are you telling me this?" Alfred hissed out angrily. "If anything _I_ should be telling you that."

oOo

**Fade**: Every living being, with the exception of dwarves, enters the Fade mentally when they dream and mages tap into it when they cast spells. Most people do not remember their time in the Fade, but mages are forced to recall. Spirits and demons reside in the Fade.

**Veil**: A metaphysical barrier between the mortal realm and the Fade. Neither spirits nor mortal beings can easily pass physically through the Veil, but the consciousness of mortal dreamers easily does so. The veil can become thin in areas where there have been massive, brutal deaths.

oOo

"Why did you stop?"

"What?"

"You stopped," he whispered lowly, his grip on Alfred's wrist tightening further. "Why?"

Thank the Creators… "You heard it, too?" Alfred said relieved.

"Heard what?"

"The whispers," he answered confused. "You heard them too, right?"

Ivan's violet eyes narrowed.

"Ignore it," he said darkly. "The whispers may be demons."

"Demons?" Alfred scoffed. "Why would they be aiming for me? I'm not a mage."

Ivan looked at Alfred, his face unreadable. Creators, he hated when Ivan went all emotionless. Ivan released his hold on Alfred's wrist, but his face remained impassive.

Alfred gingerly massaged his wrist, a scowl on his face. He turned away from Ivan walking towards Yao.

"Is everything alright?" Yao asked, scanning the area.

"Of course," Alfred responded nonchalantly, walking past him as well.

* * *

><p>"Bastard, warning me," Alfred grumbled, marching further into the territory. He <em>wasn't<em> a mage. He didn't want to be a mage. When was the last time he had even used magic? So long as he didn't use it, he wasn't a mage.

The air had gotten staler the further he walked, an odd smell permeated the air. He scrunched up his nose in distaste. "Hey, wh—"

Alfred fought for his balance as the earth shook, blood curdling screams filling the air. His head snapped up at the noise, struggling to remove his sword from its sheath.

He glanced behind him, making sure that Ivan and Yao were okay, but he saw them looking off toward the cliffs, even from the distance separating them Alfred could see the intense look on both of their faces.

He followed their gaze, and his eyes widened as the source of the tremors and shouts emerged.

They were large, far larger than anything Alfred had ever seen. "Creators…" he whispered in disbelief, his eyes locked on the beast-like men. Horns stuck out of disheveled white hair, skin the color of bronze—was that _blood_? Creators, they had blood smeared on their bodies!

He managed to pull the sword out, but his mind was in a haze. He was far. Too far to reach Ivan before those beast would strike.

He whipped his head around, feeling the land near him shake stronger. One of the robust beasts was charging at him. He steeled his nerve, his grasp on the swords hilt tight. He spared one more glance at Ivan before advancing on the beast.

Alfred struck the blade down, the beast deflecting the blow with his own sword.

"Fuck!" he shouted, the vibrations from the swords impact travelling to his arm.

He numbly struck again, but once again his attack was blocked. He lifted the blade, noticing how the beast raised his own sword, Alfred smirked, lowering the blade, he thrust the sword with as much might as his numb nerves could muster.

The blade cut the bronze-like skin, he pushed further, attempting to shove the blade past bone and muscle.

The beast snarled, his callused skin striking Alfred in the face.

Sword relinquished, Alfred fell to the floor, his glasses flying off. He groaned in pain, dazed as he attempted to stand. The beast pulled the blade out of his chest, throwing it to the floor.

Approaching Alfred he grabbed the elf's neck lifting him, feet dangling uselessly.

Alfred punched the beast wildly, but he showed no sign of loosening his grip. The markings on his neck burned, throbbing against the beast's skin. Alfred snarled, his arm engulfed in light as his fist plunged into the beast's chest. He reached wildly, his hand searching for the beast pumping heart, gripping the beating organ his hand solidified, savagely he pulled his arm out, crimson blood gushing onto Alfred. The beast roared, releasing his hold.

The elf stumbled back, coughing and gasping for air, tears in his eyes. He watched as the beast fell to the floor, his dull lifeless eyes watching Alfred, who still held his beating heart.

He threw the beating appendage to the floor disgusted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, inadvertently smearing the beast's blood on his lips. Still gasping for air he squinted his eyes looking at the floor. He stumbled slightly, bending down to pick up his glasses. One of the lenses was cracked, and the frames were crooked. "Damn it."

The land was still full of screams— and laughter? He turned towards the murderous noise, finding Ivan laughing madly, two of the beast laid on the floor, already disposed of. Alfred watched mesmerized as Ivan hands were engulfed in pure-white smoke, already targeting another beast.

Alfred should have heard the noise, should have felt the land quiver, but he didn't. All he saw was Ivan, who was uninjured, Ivan who was helping Yao attack the beasts. And then he saw mind numbing white as he crumpled to the floor, his eyes scrunched close as he griped his side, his ribs hurting with each inhale and exhale.

Blood poured from his side, the chainmail underneath his clothes doing more damage than good, the interlocked pieces of iron attached themselves to his flesh and exposed bone. "F-fuck," he shouted hoarsely. Alfred opened his eyes slowly, but his vision blurred as he felt another burst of pain to his injured side. Blood filled his mouth, and he choked on the metallic tasting liquid.

He heard the beast move, so he rolled to the side, crying out in pain as he rolled on his exposed side. He groggily stood up as the beast foot connected to the spot he had just occupied. Alfred lunged forward, chocking on his blood as he jumped on the beast back. He held tightly onto the beast neck, his hand plunging into the back of the beast who began to buck wildly in an attempt to remove Alfred. Fuck the heart, wildly grabbing a handful of anything he solidified his arm, the behemoth's back cracking open with a disgusting pop.

Still the beast continued to try and remove Alfred, only giving up when his body slumped to the floor.

Alfred painfully removed himself from the body, fighting to keep his balance. He forced his eyes to focus, slowly he looked about the area, making damn sure that he hadn't missed _any_ beast. He sighed in relief, turning to look at Ivan and Yao. There were only two beasts left, but neither Ivan nor Yao looked like they needed help.

Gingerly Alfred touched his wound, nearly crumpling to the floor as pain engulfed his senses. He felt bile rise in his throat and forced it back down. He'd be damned if he was going to vomit.

Light hit his eyes, and blearily he looked at the hills behind Ivan and Yao.

"Fuck."

Alfred swallowed heavily, his breathing becoming erratic. Behind Ivan a beast stood poised with a javelin, aimed at Ivan. Aimed at his master he thought hazily, an image of Sadik passing through his panicked-pain filled mind. He had to protect him, or he'd face the consequences.

But he was too far, he wouldn't be able to make it. Alfred clutched his chest tightly, it was burning, he raised his hand out awkwardly, the limb shaking as the feeling of intense heat travelled to his hand. "_Ngh_!" Alfred shouted, dark blue flame spewed forth from his fingertips, engulfing the javelin wielding beast.

But even as the beast fell to his knees, weapon all but forgotten, Alfred did not relent. Magic continued to flow from his fingertips until his body fell to the floor exhausted.

What pride he still had kept him from simply falling unconscious. He had to make sure that Ivan was okay.

He opened his eyes for a second, only to see an enraged Ivan nearly upon him, his cloak billowing with each step.

Ivan reached out for him, and Alfred flinched involuntarily, his mind a jumbled mess of memories.

"Alfred," he began, grasping either side of the elf's face. "Alf—"

"Are you okay?" Alfred all but shouted, he couldn't open his eyes anymore, couldn't check himself.

Ivan looked taken aback by the question. "I'm fine."

Alfred nodded, good, fantastic, that's all he needed to hear.

Seconds later his face slackened in Ivan's hold.

* * *

><p>Alfred awoke gasping for air, his eyes burned, sluggishly he attempted to sit up, only to be pushed back down.<p>

"H-huh… ?" he whispered, his throat raw. It took a few attempts but he was finally able to open his eyes, only to see Ivan looming over him, his face impassive. Alfred closed his eyes for a second, dread coiling in the pit of his stomach.

"Quite disappointing, don't you think? That armor you wore couldn't even take one hit from a Qunari."

"… Yeah…"

Ivan raised a brow at Alfred's dismissive attitude, but didn't comment.

"I recall you telling me that I wouldn't have to worry about you making deals with demons," his voice was neutral, but his eyes were a violet storm of rage, "because you weren't a mage."

Alfred glared haughtily at Ivan, his throat suddenly dry. "You don't have to worry because I'm _not_ a mage," he hissed out angrily.

"Oh," Ivan responded darkly, "then what do you call what you did back there at the Silent Plains?"

"My job."

"You're a mage," Ivan said bluntly. Alfred looked so affronted by his comment, as if Ivan had called his mother an Antivan whore.

"Damn it, I'm not! I haven't used magic in years till that damn fight happened."

Ivan laughed. Oh, the elf was indeed entertaining. "You think you can choose to be a mage? You're more of a fool than I thought. You're born a mage, you have no say in the matter." Ivan looked crossly at him. "You think you can deny your birth as a mage?"

"I can!" he snarled, his sky-blue eyes darkening as they met Ivan's gaze. "You should be grateful, I used magic to save you when I _hate_ it."

"Grateful?" he asked dangerously, his tone dark.

Alfred looked warily at Ivan, feeling Ivan's heated eyes boring into his own. "Yes, grateful," he argued back, slight hesitation in his voice.

"Don't delude yourself. I saw that beast, do you think me so weak as to be slain by that?" his eyes flashed angrily. "Unlike you I can stand on my own against a Qunari."

Alfred flushed, his eyes narrowing. "I only trained for a few weeks, what did you expect?"

"Competence."

"Why are you pissed?" Alfred asked, genuine confusion in his voice. "You weren't hurt."

"I'm 'pissed' because you lied to me." He grasped Alfred's chin tightly. "Not a mage?" he whispered. "If you weren't a mage those demons wouldn't have been after you at the Silent Plains."

He let go of Alfred's chin, pushing the lithe elf further into the bed as he climbed onto it, his eyes looking darkly at Alfred's anxious gaze. "I refuse to let the demons have you," he hissed. "Just as I refused all other attempts to remove you from me."

He eyed Alfred hungrily, his hands resting on either side of his head.

"You're mine."


	6. I Need You, But I Don't Want You

a/n: Thank you all for the reviews, favorites, and story alerts! Sorry for the late update! This chapter just gave me so much trouble. I must have changed the beginning at least four times.

Also, it wasn't supposed to be quite so long. I thought about breaking it into two chapters, but then I became indecisive over where cut it. In the end I thought it best to just leave it as one big chapter.

Hope you guys enjoy!

Disclaimer: APH does not belong to me.

Chapter 5: I Need You, But I Don't Want You

* * *

><p>Alfred swallowed heavily, fear slowly creeping into his eyes. He knew that look. Knew what it entitled for him.<p>

He swallowed audibly.

His anger dissipating, giving way to fear.

Whispers.

Creators, the whispers were starting again.

He scrunched his eyes closed, biting his lip nervously.

Cerulean eyes opened, but besides Ivan, no one else was in the room. His eyes narrowed at seeing Ivan's intense look. "I'm not yours," he stated angrily, fear still apparent in his eyes.

The whispers seemed delighted at Alfred's outburst, their voices all but shouting at him in a chorus of voices.

Alfred's face paled as he heard his name being shouted. Demons— demons _knew_ his name.

His fear swelled, encompassing his heart in a vice like grip as a single voice stood out amongst the voices.

"Alfred…" He stiffened. Anxiously he grabbed the hem of Ivan's cloak. It laughed. The fucking voice laughed. "I'm here to help," it said, its voice low and sleeplike, as if trying to coax him into a sense of safety. "Don't you want freedom? You don't want this. I can help you," it murmured softly. "Let me help you."

He shook his head defiantly. No, of course he didn't want this, but he damn sure wouldn't get help from a _demon_ of all things. No, he would gain his freedom himself, with his own strength and resolve.

"A pity," the voice rang out, as if it could read his thoughts. It laughed, and soon the other voices joined in. Alfred all but jumped as he felt something touch his skin.

"Are they talking to you?" Ivan asked quietly, from his tone, he knew they were.

Alfred didn't respond, he merely looked at Ivan with expressive eyes.

Anger, pain and fear, so much fear.

He'd never seen the elf look so vulnerable… so pitiful.

But he couldn't deny how alluring it made Alfred look. Hair tousled and glasses skewed, it was almost as if he was _waiting_ to be ravished.

He reached forward, his gloveless hand touching the lyrium markings beneath Alfred's lips. He felt him shiver, and couldn't help but grin.

Oh, he would have the elf, but not now. No, the elf would come to him.

But just because he couldn't have him now, didn't mean he wouldn't touch him.

Slowly, he moved his hand down Alfred's chin, to his neck, finally stopping at Alfred's clavicle. Ivan frowned, his fingers casually tugging at the bandages wrapped around Alfred's chest.

He deftly began tugging at the bandages, causing Alfred to hiss in pain.

"W-wha—"

"Shh," he mumbled forcefully, tearing at the bandages, finally, through sheer tenacity, the bandages were torn asunder, revealing lyrium branded skin and a still healing wound.

Ivan's violet eyes followed the tendrils of lyrium on Alfred's skin, the skin flushing red everywhere he looked.

"Dude!" Alfred shouted angrily, trying to push Ivan away.

"I can make the voices go away," Ivan replied casually, his finger continuing its conquest of Alfred's chest. The markings lighted ghostly-blue under his touch, and he couldn't help but note how Alfred's attempts to remove him were weakening.

Boldly he leaned forward, his clothed chest mere centimeters from Alfred bare chest. "I can make them leave you alone," he whispered sultrily, enjoying the hazy look of anger on Alfred's face.

"S-stop," he spluttered spitefully, trying to push his body further into the mattress, away from Ivan. "Don't."

But Ivan didn't stop, he moved away from the elf, but his hands continued their assault on Alfred's body, slowly and torturously following the lyrium markings.

While his hands continued their assault towards Alfred's hips, Ivan's gaze traveled upward, toward the flushed and angry face of Alfred.

"Are they still talking to you?"

"Why—," he gasped sharply as Ivan rubbed circle's on his abdomen, "d-do you care?"

"Because you interest me." Slowly he bent down, resting his mouth against Alfred's ear. "Like I said," Alfred shivered as Ivan's warm breath tickled his skin, "I won't let the demons have you." He pulled back, his eyes darkening considerably at seeing Alfred underneath him. "Now, tell me. The demons, are they still talking to you?" he asked, his tone demanding.

Alfred scowled, turning his head to the side, he shook his head.

Ivan couldn't help the calculating smile that graced his face. "Excellent. I won't have weaklings tied to my name." Slowly he removed himself from Alfred, at once missing the heat that radiated from the elf. "I expect you to undergo the Harrowing, pass that, and I'll overlook the fact that you lied to me."

"I didn't lie." Alfred crossed his arms, wincing in pain as he grazed his wound. "What's a Harrowing?"

"A test."

"For what?" Alfred asked, not liking the smug grin on Ivan's face.

"To see if you're as capable as you believe you are."

* * *

><p>Yao wasn't surprised when Ivan had asked him to change Alfred's bandages, but he was surprised when he entered the room and found the bandages torn apart.<p>

Yao approached the bed slowly, vaguely noting that this was the _first_ time that Alfred had stayed on his bed for so long. "How," he whispered to himself, "did this happen?" An image of Ivan came to mind, and he quickly dismissed it. But it had to be him, didn't it?

He couldn't help but get a little upset at the thought of Ivan touching Alfred while he slept. When Ivan had come to Yao earlier he had that _look_. The look that clearly said he was plotting something. What exactly, he didn't know. And while he usually didn't mind not knowing, he couldn't help but want to know this time. Because somehow—somehow he knew that it involved Alfred.

"Hey," he whispered lightly, gently shaking Alfred's arm, purposely avoiding the lyrium tattoo. He didn't like the way his body would react on contact, and judging from the way Alfred would tense, it wasn't something he enjoyed as well. "Alfred, wake up."

The blond slowly stirred, opening his eyes angrily he turned towards Yao. "Oh," his glare vanished, replaced by a smile, "what's up?"

"I'm here to change your bandages."

"Of course…" slowly he sat up, some of the torn bandages still clinging to his skin.

Yao couldn't help but look at Alfred's face as he removed the bandages and cleaned the wound. He looked fine, not as though he had been… harassed. Should he ask? Carefully he applied the new bandages, slowly covering the wound. Alfred hissed every time it passed his injury.

But his thoughts were interrupted by Alfred's clear voice, "What's a Harrowing?"

That got his attention, Yao's hands stilled in their work as his gaze locked onto Alfred's blue orbs. "The Harrowing is a test," he said casually, forcing his hands to go back to work. Why was Alfred asking? How, in the name of the Maker, did he even know that word? No one in the Imperium even—_oh_, is this what Ivan was plotting?

"Yeah, I got that much, but what exactly is it a test of?"

"It's not done here, though some of us have undergone the ritual. Unlike the rest of Thedas, we don't keep mages isolated from the rest of the world."

"You mean the Circles?"

"Yes, the main difference between the Imperium and everyone else is the Circle of Magi. We don't have one, but they do. Any person who shows sign of magic is taken by the Circle, and all mages sent there are considered dangerous and are treated as apprentices until they pass the Harrowing." Yao licked his lips, nearly done re-bandaging Alfred's wound. "It is a very dangerous test."

oOo

**The Circle of Magi**: The dominant organization for the training of mages within nations of Thedas. They are governed and monitored by the Chantry.

**Harrowing**: A secret rite of passage that the Circle administers, without warning, to adult apprentice mages. The ritual is analogous to a vaccination-the apprentice is exposed to a demon under controlled circumstances in order to prove that they are strong and willful enough to fight off an attempt at possession. If a mage fails this test, they become possessed by a demon and undergo a physical transformation and are immediately destroyed by the Templars monitoring them

oOo

"I'm not a mage, Creators, doesn't he get it?"

Yao sat on the mattress, meeting Alfred's dark gaze head on. "You may not acknowledge the fact that you have an affinity for magic, but the demons do, and unlike us, they'll hound you till you break." His gaze softened, as he saw Alfred stiffen at the mention of demons. "The test is to see if you can resist the demons in the Fade. I went through the test and so did Ivan."

"And if I don't pass it?" he asked seriously, his eyes hard.

"You'll pass it," Yao responded.

"But—"

"No," Yao shook his head, his brown hair fluttering across his vision, "you'll pass, failure is not an option."

"… Okay," Alfred responded back, confusion clearly visible on his tired face. "So," he began awkwardly, "did you end up finding that plant?"

"Yes, I did end up finding it, though I was more concerned with bringing you back to the palace," he crossed his arms, suddenly looking unhappy, "though Ivan would have none of it, Maker, he didn't even want me to touch you!"

"He didn't want you to touch me?"

Yao couldn't help but note the faint blush that spread across Alfred's cheeks. "Yes, he seemed determined to heal you himself, it took a lot of persuasion on my part to make him let me heal you, and once I healed you as much as I could, he told me to look for the flowerer so that the trip wouldn't be a waste." Alfred nodded, his eyes lightly glazed as they took in the information.

"I'll be leaving soon," Yao said, looking away from the elf. "Tomorrow is my last day here." He turned back, his brown eyes boring into Alfred's. "I take it you'll be undergoing the Harrowing. Do you know the actual date?"

"No." Alfred's fiddled with the bandages, his face heating up despite his wishes. "Can I ask you something?"

Yao nodded, his thoughts on what Ivan was plotting pushed back. Why was Alfred blushing?

"What's—," he bit his lip anxiously, holding on to Yao's gaze, "what's Ivan's deal?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why is he so interested in me?" he asked bluntly, the flush spreading to his ears.

Yao felt his own cheeks heating up. Of all the things he thought the blond was going to ask him, _that_ was definitely not one of them. What was he supposed to say? Even he found Ivan's attraction to Alfred odd. "I'm actually not sure," Yao admitted. "Ivan never really showed any interest in anybody. I only know of two relationships that he's ever had, and both of those relationships were with human women who initiated the relationship."

"Can 'ya, I don't know, tell him to lay off? He thinks it's a challenge when I tell him to fuck off."

"Is that what prompted him to rip your bandages?" Yao asked suddenly.

Alfred's face darkened considerably, his face nearly rivaling the color of Ivan's robe. "Is that what he told you?"

"No, he just told me to change your bandages."

"So… how'd you know it was him?"

Because that was what he first thought when he entered the room, but he wasn't going to tell Alfred that. "Lucky guess."

* * *

><p>Ivan hadn't had many dealings with Magister Elizabeta, but Yao always commended her abilities, so there must be something about her that was worthy of the praise.<p>

Slowly Ivan picked up his quill, beginning his request for her abilities. He couldn't help the self-satisfied grin that graced his face. When was the last time he had felt like this? The elf was truly to turning out to be a source of entertainment, if not an unhealthy obsession.

His hand stilled as he recalled the elf beneath him. He couldn't help but envision Alfred a panting mess beneath him, _begging_ Ivan to touch him, those sky-blue eyes glazed over, and that toned lyrium branded skin throbbing against his own flesh. Ivan took a shaky breath at the image.

But would it really be like that? Somehow Ivan couldn't see Alfred relinquishing control so completely.

He looked back down at the summons he was writing, suddenly feeling the urge to complete the letter sooner rather than later.

Alfred would need to undergo the Harrowing ritual, not just to prove his worth to Ivan, but to give Ivan an edge over the elf. Yes, this test would give Ivan the means to control Alfred.

He set to work, time passing by quickly as he wrote.

A knock at his door sounded, before the large oaken door opened, and without even glancing up Ivan knew who it was. "What brings you at this hour, Yao?"

Yao sat in the chair in front of Ivan's desk, his face tight as he eyed his friends moving hand. "I just came back from Alfred's room."

"Oh?"

"His wound looks well, but he looks exhausted. How long was he awake when you were in the room with him?" he asked casually.

Ivan smiled lightly. "Not that long. I stayed to make sure that he went to sleep."

He had stayed, much to Alfred's annoyance. In the end, his little elf tired of glaring at him and nodded off, but Yao didn't need to know the details.

"I take it he told you about the demons?" Ivan asked casually, signing the document with a flourish of his signature. Where had he left that stamp?

Yao's eyes widened in surprise. "No, he didn't mention that." Yao's chocolate gaze fell onto the parchment on Ivan's desk. "Is that why you're making him go through the Harrowing?"

Ivan folded the paper, carefully placing it in a plain envelope. "He has to show his worth," Ivan responded. "The elf needs to learn his place. This test is his punishment for lying to me."

"But you already knew he was a mage," Yao argued.

"Yes, I did," he sealed the document, the hooded ferryman standing out clearly in the drying wax, "but he didn't know that, did he?"

Ivan smiled innocently, and Yao couldn't help but feel some of his resolve leave him. "Will I be here when he takes the test?"

Ivan shook his head. "I plan on inviting Magister Elizabeta to observe the ritual." He eyed Yao coolly. "After all, you're always praising her abilities."

Yao smiled at her name. Good, Elizabeta was someone trustworthy. "She is a good healer, for being a mage who doesn't specialize in Spirit Healing." He leaned back in his seat, weariness clear in his demeanor. "Would you like me to take that to the messenger?"

Ivan nodded and slid the letter across the table.

"Are sure about this, Ivan?" Yao asked as he took the letter. "That test… it may do more harm than good."

Ivan smiled at the question, humorously noting the way that Yao slightly shivered. "Do you know how to control a man who doesn't want nor need anything?"  
>Yao took in the words slowly, mulling over the question. "You give him something," he answered after a few minutes.<p>

"Yes," Ivan leaned back, his smile turning predatory. "And then you hold that against him."

Yao nodded, confusion visible in his eyes. Clearly he was wondering how this conversation was related to what he had asked, but Ivan was not about to elaborate on his plan, Yao didn't need to know what he had planned for _his_ elf.

"You'd best be on your way, Yao. I want that letter delivered quickly."

Yao nodded, obviously still perturbed with Ivan's decision. He gripped the letter tightly and walked out, knowing that he could do nothing to deter Ivan, after all, Alfred was his.

* * *

><p>"Mythal guide me…" Alfred chanted lowly.<p>

It had been three days since Yao left, and Alfred was left with only Ivan for company, which on any other occasion would have annoyed him greatly, but it seemed the demons would shut-up when in the presence of the platinum haired bastard.

At first he had been somewhat happy when he realized that Ivan wasn't kidding when he said that he could make the demons go away, but that quickly changed to annoyance, and ultimately anger.

Alfred glared angrily at the door, waiting for Ivan to barge in at any moment.

"Fucking ass," he spat out venomously. Ivan had ordered him to remain in bed the last time he had visited Alfred, but the enthusiastic blonde quickly ignored the demand. He had awoken not a few hours later in Ivan's arms. Apparently Ivan didn't appreciate Alfred's choice of sleeping in the corner.

Alfred couldn't help the flush that spread across his cheeks at the recent memory. Oh, he fought back, but that did nothing but amuse Ivan. Smiling the whole way through he dumped Alfred unceremoniously on his bed, aggravating his wound.

Then the bastard had the gall to threaten him if he found him anywhere but the bed. It wasn't so much the threat but the fact that Ivan had looked at him strangely that kept Alfred on the bed. He didn't like the way Ivan's eyes darkened as he threatened to bind Alfred to that accursed bed.

Since Yao's departure Ivan would randomly appear in his room, and Alfred didn't like awakening to those violet eyes watching him sleep.

But Ivan would smile that infuriating smile of his and just sit there, occasionally he wound bring a book with him, but not always. When he didn't bring a book he'd just… stare.

Could he complain? Not really. As much as he hated to admit it, Ivan's presence had a calming effect on the whispers, and while it was creepy to fall asleep being watched he couldn't help but succumb to the exhaustion.

He was damn tired, and those fucking demons wouldn't let him sleep, hell, they wouldn't let him _think_.

Which was why he was waiting for Ivan to appear. He was tired and creeped out. Much to Alfred's embarrassment, he had asked Yao to place some of that tree bark from the garden in front of his door before he had left, hoping that it would block the whispers. It was a foolish endeavor, but he didn't want a repeat of whatever it was that happened earlier with Ivan.

Ivan had come to see him after Yao had left and Alfred was on the defensive. He had looked at Alfred amused, that intense look he had worn gone. He just looked like his normal pompous self.

If Ivan was going to act like nothing happened, that was fine with him.

But that didn't stop him from being paranoid when he was around.

Grumbling, Alfred removed himself from his bed. "This sucks."

Slowly he walked towards the window, admiring the myriad colors in the sky. They looked so warm and inviting. The sky was always calling his name, and now more than ever he wished he could fly out to that sky, away from these voices… He reached out, his palm touching the cool surface of the glass. Creators, he wanted to go outside. Both Yao and Ivan had refused to let him leave his room until one of them deemed him in decent enough health. He could understand Yao's concern but not Ivan's, then again, he never got Ivan.

Alfred rested his forehead against the glass, watching the trees sway as the wind blew. "I need to train." Had he still been with Sadik he would have been punished. Severely. He closed his eyes as a shudder passed his body.

"Yes, you do." Alfred smiled bitterly, turning to meet those violet eyes he was becoming accustomed to waking to. But just because he was getting used to it didn't mean he had to like it. "Why are you out of bed?" Ivan asked casually, but Alfred could just barely make out the stern tone in his voice.

He crossed his arms across his chest barely restraining the grimace of pain from his wound stretching. "Oh, didn't realize I couldn't get out of bed."

They stared at each other, neither breaking their gaze until Alfred relented.

"Whatever."

Quickly he made his way towards his bed, not enjoying having Ivan's full attention. As he passed the violet eyed man, the whispers fizzled out and Alfred smiled contently as he sat on the bed.

"Next time you leave that bed without my permission, I'll do more than just tie you to the bed," he said, eyeing down the wheat-haired youth. "Is that clear, elf?"

He had to be joking. What was he supposed to do if he had to use the bathroom? "Do you want me to relieve myself here too?" Alfred asked incredulously.

Ivan leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. His violet eyes looked murderously at Alfred.

Why had he even asked? Glaring at Ivan could only provide so much joy, and after a few minutes he felt himself dozing off. He felt a presence at his side, but it didn't register in his mind. A few seconds later found Alfred dozing peacefully and Ivan at his side.

* * *

><p>A week and a half passed in a blur of sleepless nights. The whispers had gotten worse, and the nightmares were an unexpected mess. Alfred shivered, wrapping his cloak tightly about his body. He couldn't remember how the demon's looked in his dreams, but their voices were a different matter. There were some things that Alfred was certain he would remember until he died, and those voices were one of them.<p>

One voice had stood out from the bunch, one that had followed him incessantly in that warped word of the Fade. That raspy voice, with its drawn out breathes, so low and hypnotic. Alfred rubbed his eyes tiredly, his frustrations growing by the second.

"Cowards," he muttered lowly, voice slowly growing strong. "Do you hear me? You're fucking cowards!" The whispers whirled around him in a cyclone of mockery.

Alfred gritted his teeth, growling threateningly. This was getting ridicules. He had been ecstatic when Ivan had told him he would be too busy to see him, but now all he wanted was for that smiling bastard to show up!

Caution be damned! Alfred hastily changed, putting on a plain blue robe, a gold sash hanging loosely at his side. He grabbed his cloak, gripping the fabric tightly as he left his room.

He hadn't gone very far before he found the source of his frustrations. The whispers turned to shuts as Alfred stepped determinedly towards Ivan. Yeah, they sure as hell didn't like Ivan, which was fine with Alfred 'cause he didn't like him too.

He saw the surprise in those violet eyes, and couldn't help but feel some pride at getting a reaction out of that hard-ass.

Ivan's amethyst eyes quickly lost their surprise, and instead of anger or even annoyance, they changed to amusement.

"Problems sleeping?" he asked innocently, meeting Alfred halfway in the corridor. He gently ran his finger under Alfred's eye, his amusement doing nothing to change Alfred's mood.

Alfred smacked his hand away, glaring at him. "Dude."

But, Creators, that touch—it was just a _touch_! Just a touch and the voices haunting both his waking and sleeping worlds seemed to crumble, their ferocity and grip on Alfred gone, and for the first time that week he could hear himself.

How was it that Ivan could make them leave? Was it some skill that mages learned?

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood," Ivan began, motioning for Alfred to follow him. "Or you'd be tied to that bed of yours."

Alfred snorted at the remark, but followed Ivan nonetheless.

Ivan led him to his study, sitting behind his desk he motioned for Alfred to sit down. The room was dark, the only source of light coming from the fireplace. Countless books littered the wall, and Alfred wondered if Ivan had truly read them, or maybe he put them there for show? Knowing that smug bastard he probably had read them. Hell, he just wished he could read.

"It's rude to stare," Alfred stated, resting his head on the extremely soft chair. His eyes closing as he relaxed at the sound of the fire cackling. He felt Ivan's gaze on him, but he couldn't bring himself to get annoyed. He was too tired to feel anything but that mind-numbing need to sleep.

"Also rude to fall asleep when someone invited you to speak," he responded, his deep voice forcing Alfred's sleep deprived eyes to open. He smiled and Alfred glared, his eyes beginning to close once again.

"Did you actually read all these books?" Alfred motioned towards the walls, his eyes refusing to open, his eye-lids felt so heavy.

Ivan laughed, his eyes moving from Alfred to his shelves. "Only a fool would surround himself with books he has not read."

"Show-off."

Ivan's chuckle filled the room, that deep laugh forcing Alfred to open his eyes. Where was Ivan from? Definitely somewhere on the fringes of the Imperium, no way was that accent a mainland one.

"Hey," he asked dreamily, his brow furrowed, "Where are you from? Your voice… I haven't heard _any_ people with that voice." He heard Ivan move in his chair, and could just imagine that infuriating smile on his face.

"Oh?" he smiled, lazily he rested his chin on his propped up arm, watching Alfred with curious eyes. "I'm from a small village in the northern Imperium, the Nocen region. Not many people in that area, so it's no surprise that you haven't heard the accent elsewhere."

"But Yao doesn't have it."

"No, he doesn't, but then Yao wasn't originally from Qarinus. He moved in later on, and retained his accent from Asariel."

"Oh," Alfred breathed out softly. Well, mystery solved.

Ivan pulled out a letter from his pocket, placing the unsealed envelope down he stared at Alfred's still body happily. "You'll be undergoing your test soon. Magister Elizabeta should be arriving sometime this week. Are you prepared for the test?"

Alfred's head fell forward, his bloodshot eyes half glaring at Ivan. "I just tell the demon to fuck off, pretty sure it's not that hard."

Ivan smiled, the grin reaching his eyes. "The Fade is a dangerous place. The demons, in their pursuit to enter our world, have reconstructed their world to look like ours. But their bases for their world are our dreams. You can probably guess how warped the place must look."

Oh, he knew. Knew too damn well how the Fade looked. Everything looked so off, and the voices. He bit his lip, resting his head back, his lyrium laced neck clearly exposed. The voices had to be the worst thing.

Ivan watched Alfred's neck with slowly darkening eyes. "A word of advice: don't trust anything in the Fade. Demons control everything in that plain, from the appearance of the world to the way they look."

Alfred smirked. "Is that concern?" he asked mockingly.

"And if it is?"

"It's not needed. I totally got this."

Nothing more was said.

A blanket of silence descended upon the room, and Alfred felt himself drifting off, Ivan's presence permeating his very being.

* * *

><p>"T-this way, miss."<p>

She smiled lightly, the poor boy, he was so nervous!

"Has the Archon been waiting long?" she asked gently, the boy shook his head, giving her a nervous smile. "What's your name?"

"Toris, miss."

"No need to be so nervous, Toris." She laughed, the noise calming down the nervous brunette.

He nodded, directing her toward a secluded corridor. He knocked on the door nervously before opening the heavy oak doors. She entered and he followed after, the door closing silently.

And there he was, the Archon, sitting at his desk, his trademark smile on. "Ah, Magister Elizabeta, a pleasure having you."

"The pleasure is surely mine," she said as she bowed. The boy behind flinched as he caught Ivan's gaze.

"I-is there anything else you require, sir?"

"No, that's all for now Toris. You're free to go." He nodded, offering a quick goodbye to the Magister before he left the room.

"Come take a seat. There's much to discuss."

She smiled lightly, doing as she was told. It was odd sitting before the Archon with no other Magisters but herself.

"I came as soon as I received your letter. I hope I didn't keep you waiting long."

He smiled, shaking his head. Those violet eyes taking in her appearance. "Your timing is perfect." He replied cryptically. "Are you familiar with the Harrowing?"

"Yes. I haven't taken the ritual myself, but I know the gist of what the ritual entails."

Ivan nodded, his gaze hardening. "I'm certain the rumors have reached all of the empire by now. Surely you've heard that I have a slave."

Well now. She had dabbled in a bit of rumors here-and-there, and certainly the topic of the Archon owning a slave had been covered, quite extensively actually. But talking about those things was different when you were speaking to the person who the rumors were about.

"Yes, I've heard the rumors." Maker, she was probably responsible for passing more rumors than any other individual in the Imperium on that matter.

"The rumor is true. I do have a slave." Her emerald eyes widened at the confession. "He's a mage," he said casually, his eyes locking onto hers. "Blood magic is a serious offense, I'm certain you know my stance on its use." She nodded, of course everyone knew his stance on blood magic. The last public execution of a blood mage was proof of his hatred for that forbidden branch of magic.

"Which is why you're making him take the Harrowing."

"Yes. I won't have a potential blood-mage tied to me." Ivan sat back, his eyes looking at her gravely. Did the room get colder? "This slave is very important to me. I hope I can expect your full cooperation."

"Of course, you will have my full attention, Archon. Have no doubt about it."

He smiled, and the room seemed to lose its chill.

"Now, about the finer details about the ritual…"

* * *

><p>"This feels so good." Alfred sat out in the garden, resting beside the sunflowers. Ivan had finally let him leave his room, thank the Creators, that room was driving him insane.<p>

Out here the voices of the demons were extinguishable with the howling of the wind. But while he could avoid them while he was awake, he couldn't while he slept.

He had been avoiding Ivan since their last meeting. He hadn't meant to fall asleep in Ivan's study, but in his defense, he'd been so _damn_ tired that he probably would have fallen asleep anywhere.

The wind rushed past him, the sunflowers bending from the pressure of the wind.

He sighed happily, wrapping his cloak tightly about himself. The black material really was warm. His cerulean eyes flicked to his left at the sound of crunching twigs. Who was out here? Curiously Alfred followed the noise, it wasn't like he had much to do. Until his wound healed he couldn't train.

"Now, where in the name of Andraste am I?" A woman's voice… was it a new servant? Slowly he inched forward, the first thing he noted was that dark brown hair. It was so long, and looked so soft. There was no way this was a servant, not from the way she was dressed. She wore a light lime-green robe with countless pink and yellow flowers tastefully stitched throughout the garb, a white sash adorned her waist. He stared, crap, he _knew_ he shouldn't, but she looked amazing.

The woman turned, her green eyes widening as she spotted him. "Hey!" she yelled, marching towards Alfred. "Do you work here?"

"Uh…" he looked at her confused. "Work? Yeah, I guess I do."

She wasn't scared of him?

Smiling kindly, she bowed to him. "My name is Magister Elizabeta." She looked at him expectantly.

"Alfred," he said after a few seconds. That voice sounded familiar…

"Nice to meet you, Alfred." She stepped closer towards him, smiling brightly, and Alfred found himself smiling with the same vigor.

"What are you doing out here?"

She shivered as the wind blew past, her long hair flying in the wind. "I just finished a meeting with the Archon, and he mentioned that I was free to do what I pleased. His gardens are well known throughout the empire, so I figured I'd spend some time here." She smiled sheepishly. "But I lost track of where I was, and ended up wandering about, that is, until you showed up."

Alfred nodded in understanding. "I've gotten lost before as well. It takes a while to learn where everything is," he said sympathetically. "Ivan invited you?"

She raised a brow at him. "You call Archon Ivan without his title?"

"Yeah, why?"

"He doesn't mind?"

Alfred shook his head. Ivan never brought it up. Heck not even Yao seemed bothered by the fact that he called Ivan without his title. Was it really such a big deal?

She shivered again, closing her eyes she cursed lightly under her breath.

"Here."

"Huh?" she opened her eyes to see the blue eyed youth extending his cloak to her. "Oh, no, it's—"

"Don't worry about it," he smiled lightly, and that's when her eyed widened. Those markings on his skin… this was the slave Sadik owned.

She took the cloak from him, her fingers gently brushing against Alfred's hand. "Thank you."

He nodded. "I know the way out. Do you wanna leave?"

She nodded. Alfred turned away, his smile leaving his face. He saw the shock on her face. He clenched his fist angrily.

"Do you remember me?" Elizabeta asked quietly.

Alfred looked at her confused. "Have we met before?"

She nodded. "Yes, though at the time, you couldn't see."

"That's why…" he smiled, of course, that gentle voice, "you're the healer Sadik called on."

"Yes, I'm glad that you were able to find a healer who could do what I couldn't," she said sincerely.

"Me too."

They walked for a bit, Elizabeta's gaze on Alfred's glasses.

"Was it Yao who healed your eyes?" Alfred nodded. "So I take it you no longer belong to Sadik?"

At the mention of his name Alfred stilled. "No, I don't."

They entered the palace, the warm air in the building tingling their chilled skin.

Elizabeta removed the cloak, handing it back to Alfred. "Thank you."

He blushed lightly. "Don't mention it." He put the cloak back on, the light scent of something sweet wafting in the air. Was it his cloak? "Do you know the way back to your room?"

"Yes, Toris showed me how to find my room."

Who the heck was Toris? He nodded, slight confusion in his eyes. "I'll see you later than." She nodded, and he turned to walk away. Not three steps later he stopped. "I look forward to seeing you at the Harrowing."

"What? Wait, you mean you're the one who is taking the test!" she shouted surprised. He nodded, smiling tiredly.

* * *

><p>The walk back to his room had been uneventful. The voices were back, but they weren't enough to dampen Alfred's mood. He actually had a conversation with someone who wasn't Ivan or Yao, and damn did that feel good!<p>

He waltzed into his room, about to head towards his corner when he spotted Ivan.

"Where were you?" Ivan asked casually, his eyes never moving from the papers he was reading.

"The gardens. You said I could leave the room."

"Yes, I did, didn't I?" Ivan sat the papers down, violet eyes roaming over the elf's body. "Magister Elizabeta is here. The test will happen tomorrow night."

Alfred nodded, a lopsided grin on his face. "Good, I'm ready to kick some demon ass."

"Hmn," he stood, making his way towards Alfred. "You should get some rest."

Alfred stood his ground, though all he really wanted to do was back away. "I'll get plenty of sleep when those demons leave me the hell alone."

Ivan reached out, hand slipping into Alfred's hair. "Were you lying on the ground again?" he pulled some grass and leaves from Alfred's hair, letting them fall to the floor. All too suddenly his eyes narrowed. He moved closer towards Alfred, his eyes boring into those sky-blue eyes. "Where you with someone?"

How did he know? "Yeah, I found that Magister in the gardens. She was lost so I helped her find her way back to the palace. How'd you know?" he asked amazed.

"Why do you smell like her?" he asked dangerously, his tone low and deadly.

Alfred looked at him confused, and a little angry. "I let her borrow my cloak. She was cold."

It was uncomfortable being that close to Ivan, but the demons didn't like it so he suffered through it. Finally Ivan smirked, and Alfred couldn't help but step back, the moment he did so he mentally cursed. "I see. Always the gentleman," he cupped Alfred's face, forcing his face up. "Next time let her freeze." Alfred tried turning away, but he held on tighter. "Go to bed."

He let go. Alfred didn't even say anything, his heart was beating so hard that his wound was hurting. He turned away, walking toward his corner.

"Alfred."

He continued his walk, but not towards the corner. He got onto the bed, glaring spitefully at that platinum haired bastards face.

"Goodnight."

"Fuckoff," Alfred growled out.

He saw those violet eyes darken, and on some vague level he knew he crossed the line, but he didn't care. But Ivan didn't do anything, but smile, and that smile looked so twisted that Alfred actually turned away. Despite the warmth of the blankets Alfred couldn't feel a thing but the perpetual cold he knew was emanating from an angry Ivan.

* * *

><p>"Why are we doing this here?" Alfred asked cautiously, after their little spat last night, he had awoken tied to his bed. He had remained there the whole day, only released from his binds when Ivan showed up to take him to the ritual.<p>

Magister Elizabeta stood to the side of Ivan's desk, watching intently as Ivan stood before the elf.

"Here." He thrust a small box into Alfred's arms.

Alfred looked down at the box, and when he glanced up he found Ivan walking away from him. He really had pissed him off, hadn't he? He opened the box slowly, not sure if it was some elaborate trick to get back at him.

His eyes grew large as he removed the top of the box. Slowly he glanced at Ivan, but he still had his back to the lyrium-branded elf. Carefully he removed a pair of new glasses from the box. He removed his damaged pair, placing them in the box. He put the new pair on, and bit his lip as he watched Ivan.

Suck it up, he told himself. But it was so damn hard to! "Thanks," he said awkwardly, not liking the way Elizabeta watched them so blatantly.

"Like I told you before, I take care of what belongs to me." Ivan turned to face him, anger still evident in his eyes. "Have you checked him?" Ivan directed at Elizabeta.

"Yes, besides that wound he seems to be in good shape."

He glanced back at the elf, motioning him toward the desk. "You'll plunge your hand into this chalice of lyrium," at the mention of lyrium Alfred tensed, "Where you'll mentally be transported to the Fade. A demon will be waiting for you there, your goal is to face this creature, and overcome it. If you fail, it will take your body." He lowered his voice so only Alfred could hear him. "If that happens I'll have to kill you, and that would be such a waste of a pretty elf."

"What?" Alfred asked confused because there was no way that Ivan said "cute".

Ivan simply smirked moving himself to the side.

The chalice was plain silver, but that wasn't what grabbed Alfred's attention, no, his eyes were locked onto the lyrium in the bowel. Everything always went back to that damnable lyrium.

He reached out his hand nearly touching the substance when Ivan spoke. "Remember, don't trust anything in the Fade." Creators, how many times was he gonna tell him that? His hand plunged into the cold, liquid substance. He pulled his hand back in shock, his body shivering as the residue of the lyrium on his hand began to burn.

In a burst of blinding light, he closed his eyes. When he reopened them he was no longer in Ivan's study.

* * *

><p>"I hate this place."<p>

The Fade was a creepy place. Everything seemed normal, and so long as you didn't really look, you could tell yourself that it was indeed that, but once you noticed, really noticed how everything seemed off, you couldn't help but see the Fade for what it truly was: the home of demons obsessed with the mortal realm.

The area looked so warped, the colors of this world not right. Everything was rocky, and dead, no plants or any signs of life anywhere.

Alfred walked aimlessly, not really sure how he was supposed to find this demon, or fight it for that matter. He didn't have his sword with him, and he wasn't going to relay on magic. Which left only his lyrium markings. But would his markings even work here in the Fade?

The only reason he was able to phase through people was because his limbs would momentarily tap into the Fade.

He wandered a bit more, before his focus fell on a mouse scurrying along the ground. "Nice to know that there's an infestation problem in this world as well."

The mouse stopped. Was… was it watching him? They stared at one another, Alfred still in a daze over the fact that the mouse was in a staring contest with him.

The little creature scurried away as the wind picked up, carrying the sound of low screams. Alfred turned toward the noise, his body poised for battle. But instead of a hulking beast coming at him it was a wispy cloud. It looked so harmless. It flew towards him, its low scream picking up.

Alfred rolled to the side, springing up, he activated his markings and pushed his arm into the cloud. He groped blindly before finding something solid within the gas-like object. He solidified, a spherical object grasped tightly in his hand.

The wisp didn't even cry out as it fizzled away, nothing remaining to show that it once existed.

"You're not a demon, are you?" Alfred looked around the area, his blue eyes glowing brightly in the Fade. "Down here."

He glanced down slowly, not sure what being awaited him on the floor.

It was the mouse.

The mouse was talking to him.

"This place is so fucking weird," Alfred said, running his hand through his untamed hair. He stared disbelievingly, crouching on the tips of his toes to get a clear view of the hairy vermin that had definitely called out to him.

"I saw the way you handled that wisp, it was amazing!" he spoke excited. Well he sounded like a 'he' to Alfred at least.

"You're a mouse."

"Huh? Oh, yes, this appearance, it keeps the demons away. They won't bother with something as insignificant as a mouse."

A look of disappointment crossed Alfred's face. "So you're not really a mouse?"

It chuckled, and Alfred found it the oddest thing he had ever witnessed. "No, I was once a human. Surely you know that everything in the Fade is just what you imagine. Your look the way you do because you **think** you do… I've been here for so long." He shook his furry head, rubbing his little eyes with his even smaller arms. "So long, I tried going back, but I spent so much time here that the Templars killed my real body. They trapped me here."

oOo

**Templars**: The strong arm of the Chantry, Templars serve as guardians of the Circles of Magi, hunters of apostates and maleficarum, and rarely, as a standing army at the command of the Divine. Through ingestion of carefully prepared lyrium, Templars gain resistance to magic, including the ability to interrupt spells. Though the Chantry controls the lyrium trade, those with the right connections can acquire enough to emulate the abilities of these vigilant warriors.

oOo

"Wait—wait," Alfred tilted his head to the side in confusion. "Let me get this straight. You used to be a normal dude, and for some reason the Templars killed you while you entered the Fade?"

"I was undergoing the Harrowing, isn't that what you're doing as well? I've only ever see apprentice mages come through here. But none of them ever bothered with me, which is fine by me, the less I interact with people, the less the demons take notice of me."

Another mage… why was he surrounded by them?

"But why did they kill you?"

"I took too long. I-I guess they thought I had failed. Maybe they thought I had succumbed to the demons? I'm not certain why they did it, but without an actual body I'm trapped here… trapped with these demons."

"Do you have a name?"

"I'm sure I do, but I don't seem to remember it… if you wish to call me by a name, then mouse will do. After all, that is what I am now." His long tail wagged happily. "If you're looking for your demon, its close by. I saw a large demon past the spirit of Valor, in that direction," he flicked his furry head back. "You can try speaking to him. Most of the apprentices do. He may be able to help you better than I."

Alfred nodded. Walking past the little fur-ball, who watched him as he walked away.

Just as the mouse had said there was an ethereal man in a suit of armor in the direction he had told him to go. He felt the gaze of the helmeted man. "Are you the spirit of Valor?"

He nodded. "Another mage. What is it that you want? Unlike the demons that crowd these lands my kind don't much care for your world."

"Nice to meet you too," Alfred crossed his arms in annoyance. "So you're not a demon?"

"No, don't you dare confuse us for those mindless beasts. All they care about is entering your world, tell me, what is so grand about your world that would warrant losing yourself to baser instincts?"

"I'm not a demon, maybe you should ask them." Alfred licked his bottom lip contemplatively. "So if you're not a demon, then what are you?"

"I am the spirit of Valor. Unlike the demons we spirits stay away from the affairs of your realm. Though on rare occasion we may help you out." He motioned at the weapons lying beside him. "I have helped a few of you apprentices before. I am capable of forging weapons just be my will alone," he said strongly, his voice commanding respect. "Prove your worth to me and I will help you in your test."

Alfred stood defensively, unlike the mouse this spirit looked more than capable at harming him. But he needed a weapon, there was no way he could rely on his lyrium markings alone to pass this test. "How would I go about proving myself?"

He couldn't see the creatures face, but he could hear the smile in that voice, "A dual, with whatever weapon of your choice. The first to disarm the other wins."

Alfred eyed him critically. He didn't look evil, hell, he didn't sound like the demons. But nothing was a guarantee in the Fade. After all, hadn't he just spoken to a mouse who claimed he was once human?

"The sword." Valor nodded, handing the blade to Alfred's outstretched hand. The weight didn't feel foreign, in fact, it oddly felt as if it had been made for him. He couldn't help the brilliant smile that graced his lips as he swung the blade, marveling as it seemed to become one with him.

Valor walked away from his set of weapons, walking a decent enough distance where neither he nor Alfred would have trouble swinging their blades. "Are you prepared?"

Electricity seemed to pass through Alfred's body as he gripped the blade, his eyes lighting up as he nodded.

"On your guard!" Valor yelled, lunging for the blonde.

Alfred dashed to the side, his sword coming down in a wide arc, Valor narrowly avoided the blade, charging toward the opening that Alfred's attack had left open.

But Alfred had left the opening on purpose. He smiled as his fist connected with Valor's chest, his hand phasing through the spirits wispy form. The attack left the spirit confused. Slowly he looked down at where Alfred's arm met his body.

"Drop your sword," Alfred said steely. His hand plunging further into the surprisingly cold body.

The sword clattered to the floor, its sound echoing quite loudly in the clearing. Alfred pulled his hand out, adrenaline pumping in his vain. He kept his blue eyes on Valor as he kicked the fallen sword away.

Valor backed away, and Alfred lowered his blade. "What was that?" Valor asked surprised.

"I win, the blade is mine, right?" Alfred asked, avoiding answering the question.

"Yes, the agreement stands, the blade is yours. A word of advice, the demon that awaits you is a demon of rage. I advise you against touching the creature with your flesh. Creatures consumed with nothing but rage are burning hot with their anger. Don't worry, that sword should be than capable of withholding its shape."

Alfred bowed his head, gripping the blade tightly he walked away from Valor.

How much time had passed since he entered the Fade? He couldn't help but think back on Mouse. The poor guy's body had been killed just 'cause he took so long. Would Ivan do the same to him?

He bit his lip anxiously. Ivan hadn't been too bad as of late, but then again, Alfred had been tolerating his presence. At least Ivan had cut down on the number of times he would enter Alfred's personal space. "He wouldn't," he said knowingly, gently fixing his glasses.

The area was becoming increasingly hot, sweat was falling from his brow, and his clothes hung annoyingly to his skin. "Should have worn some gloves," he lamented, his grip loose on the blades hilt.

Alfred stopped suddenly, his long ears picking up a noise. It sounded sluggish. Slowly he walked further into the open area, a gasp escaping his lips.

The rage demon was pacing about the area, leaving a trail of magma on the floor, much like a snail leaving its sticky residue, but unlike the snail, the ground sizzled after the demon.

Alfred coughed, the sulfuric smell of the demon leaving him feeling nauseated. At the noise the creature snapped its head at Alfred's direction, its bulbous head wobbling as it was entirely composed of a river of fire. Burning eyes like the sun locked onto Alfred's and he automatically pulled his blade out before him.

The beast raced towards him like the raging ocean, Alfred held his ground, prepared to thrust his blade into the beast. Creators he was hoping that Valor hadn't been kidding when he said the sword wouldn't melt.

"N-new meat," the beast hissed out as globs of magma fell from its lips.

"Disgusting."

The demon laughed. "Mine…" it groaned out, stopping before the elf, lava forming around his still body.

The smell was so much stronger with the beast so near. Alfred's eyes began watering at the smell. "I've come to slay you, demon."

It smiled, its liquid face a twisted mess, and Alfred knew that face would haunt his dreams later. "Mine," it began again, outstretching his hand towards Alfred. He brought his sword down, the beasts arm falling to the ground, where it became nothing more than a puddle of lava. The beast laughed, jumping back its reddish eyes dark with rage.

The ground beneath Alfred shook and he leaped back, his sword out in the defensive. The ground cracked open, molten magma flowing freely from the fissure. He gripped the blade tightly, running past the mini-volcano the demon had summoned. He thrust the blade to where the demons heart should have been, but nothing happened. His eyes widened as the beast grabbed clumsily at him, his sleeve disintegrating at the demons touch. Had the demon allowed himself to be injured?

"Mine," it began to chant, trying to push Alfred into the ground.

"Gah!" Alfred shouted, his chest burning from contact with the demon. He saw his blade still sticking out from the demons chest. He used his left arm as a shield to block the demon from touching his chest further, biting his lip to keep from screaming, he went to pull his sword out. He gripped the hilt tightly, tears forming at the ends of his eyes, and pulled. The blade pulled out with a _plop_, and Alfred leaped back, panting from the exertion and pain.

"I belong to no one," Alfred said dangerously low, his eyes carefully taking in the demons appearance. His sky-blue eyes flashed dangerously as he swung the blade in a wide arc, the demons head falling to the ground.

His body seemed to dissolve on itself without its head to keep it together.

Alfred choked on the demons dying fumes, walking away from the charred area.

He walked past Valor, who nodded at him as he passed. Alfred offed a weak smile back.

"You-you did it!" came a distinctly human voice.

"Of course, no demon can stop me," he said proudly, spotting the little mouse near a large boulder.

"I can't believe you did it, and without using magic too! I never had it in me to face them, not then, and certainly not now."

"Is there any way you can leave?" Alfred asked sadly. It must suck to be stuck in a place like this.

"Can you let me go with you? I can't leave this place unless I have a body to go back too. I swear I'll leave your body once we make it out. I just need you to let me in."

"… Let you in?" Alfred repeated, not thrilled with the idea of having someone in _his own_ body. "What if tell the other mages about you? I'm sure they'd be willing to help."

"Help? What kind of help would they be willing to offer? They let the Templars trap me here!" he shouted.

"These mages don't have Templars…"

"No Templars?" where the mouse's eyes glowing? "Why are there no Templars?"

"It's the Imperium. Mages are free to do as they please."

"The Imperium?"

Alfred gripped his sword, the action not lost on the mouse. "The Tevinter Imperium. The oldest country in Thedas, surly you must have heard of it…" He looked at the mouse darkly. "I'm starting to think that the other demon wasn't the real test."

"What? What are you… of course it was! What else is here that could harm someone of your potential?" Alfred brandished his sword, holding it before the mouse.

"You're the one who told me that people look the way they do in the Fade because they wish it, so what's to stop you from doing the same, mouse?"

"Oh, aren't you a smart one?" came a deep throaty voice that exuded power. Light engulfed the furry rodent, and when it cleared a grotesque beast stood before Alfred. It hovered in the air, its face looked like something a Qunari had pounded. "Simple killing is a warrior's job. The real dangers of the Fade are preconceptions, careless trust… pride." It smiled at him, a primeval fear engulfing Alfred's heart. "Keep your wits about you, mage. True test **never** end."

Light filled his vision, blinding him from everything.

* * *

><p>"… Ugh…"<p>

"Are you alright?" came a gentle voice.

Alfred pushed back against his covers. The voice was soothing, but he didn't know any females. He opened his eyes only to be greeted by darkness, there were a few torches lit, but for the most part the room was dark. Blurrily he eyed the woman beside his bed. Oh, right, the healer from the garden.

Creators he ached…

"Where am I?" he asked, his voice cracking. He closed his eyes, moaning pathetically as he felt his raw throat clench.

A hand combed through his hair gently. "You're in your room… do you remember how you got here?"

Mouse…

"I was taking the Harrowing."

"Yes, you passed the test." She smiled, the action clear in her voice. "The Archon carried you to your room last night when the ritual was over."

He groaned lightly, the covers felt far too heavy on his body.

"Tell that ass that… that there was more than one demon."

He heard a tight laugh. "I'll be certain to let him know."

She continued talking, but it was so hard to focus. All he really wanted to do was sleep.

* * *

><p>Such soft hair… It was one of his guilty pleasures, touching his elf's hair.<p>

He had walked into the room, only to see his elf thrashing pathetically on the bed.

Ivan smiled down at Alfred, the shameless joy apparent in his eyes. Oh, the elf would soon be his, and the only thrashing he would be doing, would be done on Ivan's bed.

At his touch Alfred stilled, but the look of discontent remained on his face.

* * *

><p>Wasn't the Harrowing supposed to have fixed this? Why where the demons still bothering him? He rubbed his face tiredly, not enjoying the way the action was sluggish.<p>

Ivan had come in to see him, and the bastard had brought him flowers in congratulations on passing the ritual. What was he supposed to do with flowers?

That had been it though. No smart-ass remarks, just flowers.

He hadn't asked Alfred about what happened in the Fade, not that he wanted to elaborate on what had happened, heck, _he_ was still confused.

The demons still bothered him, but not in the same manner. Oh, he heard their whispers, but they were distant, almost as if they were hiding from something. In fact he was sure they were.

Shivering involuntarily he wrapped his cloak tighter about himself, resting his head on the wall. His dreams had lead him to become paranoid. There was something always off in his dreams. No matter what he always dreamt that he was in the palace gardens, and always there was the intense feeling of being watched. He'd always catch a glimpse of something extremely tall from the side of his eyes, but as soon as he would turn to make sure he hadn't imagined it, it would disappear.

He was certain that whatever was watching him was keeping the other demons at bay. He didn't have any proof, but he knew he was right.

The door to his room opened quietly as Elizabeta walked in. "Hey," she called merrily. Alfred smiled tiredly, not sharing in her enthusiasm. "How are you feeling?"

Alfred looked dubiously at her. "I'm really tired." He ran his hand through his hair for the hundredth time that day, sighing angrily.

"You know the Harrowing doesn't prevent demons from bothering you. It just proves that you're capable of resisting their influence." She sat at Alfred's bed, watching him sympathetically. "My former apprentice usually played music when the demons became too much to handle. Those melodies were so beautiful, yet haunting," she said distantly. "You could tell that he was really bothered by them."

"Former? What happened to him?"

She feel back on the bed, her gaze on the ceiling. "He became the Divine for the Imperial Chantry." She smiled sadly, her voice bitter-sweet. "He went off to bigger and better things. I just hope he still plays."

oOo

**The Imperial Divine**: The leader of the Chantry, unlike the Orlesian Divine, the Imperial Divine is always male. Outside the Tevinter Imperium he is referred to as the Black Divine.

**Imperial Chantry**: A denomination of the Chantry centered in the Tevinter Imperium. The Imperial Chantry does not recognize the Divine of the Chantry of Andraste in Orlais, but elects its own Imperial Divine. In contrast to the Andrastian Chantry, the Imperial Chantry allows male priests and has more tolerant views of mages and magic.

oOo

Alfred brought his legs up, resting his head on his knees. Maybe he should go do something to get his mind off the demons too.

He scrunched his nose in disgust as he smelled himself. When was the last time he had bathed?

"Sorry about your friend."

She shook her head. "He's off to better things. Anyway, that's not why I came here for. Ivan told me to tell you that he'd be away for a few days."

"What?" his head snapped up at the information. "When? When is he leaving?" he all but shouted. That bastard! His eyes flashed dangerously as he stood abruptly.

"He should be leaving soon." She looked at him strangely. "He was in his study when—where are you going?"

But Alfred didn't answer, he was out the door the moment he heard study. He licked his lips angrily.

The door to the study opened forcefully as Alfred marched inside.

"What the hell?" he shouted angrily, his blue eyes filled with hate.

Ivan looked at him calmly, but the room chilled as he locked gazes with the irate elf. "Yes?"

Those violet eyes narrowed slightly as Alfred stepped nearer. "You're leaving. I'm your guard, you're supposed to take me with you when you leave." He crossed his arms defiantly. "If you're going, I'm going with you."

Ivan smiled, if one could even call it that. "You think to highly of yourself." He walked towards Alfred, closing the gap between them. Alfred repressed a shiver as Ivan cupped his face, lifting his face to meet Ivan's own. "You're in no position to protect anybody." His smile turned sinister. "You're still wounded from the Qunari, your body is still recuperating from your mind being in the Fade for so long, and look at yourself," he leaned forward his forehead touching Alfred's, " you look like shit, when was the last time you slept?" Alfred opened his mouth, but Ivan blocked his lips with his thumb. "You're staying. When I come back I expect you well."

Footsteps sounded in the corridor, alerting both the occupants in the room that someone was approaching.

Ivan moved his hands from the sides of Alfred's face to his hair, the look of anger vanishing as he ran his fingers through the silky strands. Alfred closed his eyes, not wanting Ivan to see the relief filling his body.

That strong feeling of being watched lessened as Ivan played with his hair. A knock on the opened door caught Alfred off guard. He pushed himself away from Ivan, his face flushing as he turned to the door. How fast had that servant walked to reach the room so quickly?

"S-sir?" He directed towards Ivan.

Ivan glanced once at Alfred before walking towards the nervous brunette. "Toris, this is who I was talking to you about." He nodded, looking at Alfred he offered a shy smile.

Ivan walked back towards Alfred, his hand finding its place in his hair once again. "I expect you to rest until I return, do I make myself clear?" Alfred scowled, pulling Ivan's hand out of his hair.

"When are you coming back?" Not that he really cared…

"Don't worry," he said, smiling knowingly. "I'll be back before you break."

Before he broke? What the heck was that supposed to mean? Had Alfred not been trying to figure out the meaning behind Ivan's words he would have noticed the predatory look in Ivan's gaze.

"I'll be seeing you, elf." He turned, smiling innocently as he passed Toris.

And just like that Ivan was gone. Funny, Alfred always figured he'd feel relief knowing that the touchy blonde was far, but he didn't feel any relief… just a gnawing feeling in his gut that something bad was going to happen.

He caught the brunette looking at him, nervous smile still etched on his face. "Hey," he said brightly. "The name's Alfred."

"Toris."

Alfred couldn't keep the honest smile from spreading across his face. "Nice to meet you," he said, extending his hand out to Toris, who looked at the action surprised. Slowly he reached out, his hand unsure in Alfred's as they shook.

"Likewise…" he said a bit more confidently, some of his nervousness leaving his face.

Awesome, this guy didn't look scared of him. "Let's get out of here," he said calmly. In truth, the feeling of being watched had come back. The small room felt stifling. Toris nodded, following the blond out of the room.

"So," he began oddly, "what did Ivan order you to do? Watch me?"

He shook his head, a bit of nervousness returning in his demeanor. "No, the Archon asked me to bring you your meals, and to make sure that you ate them."

"Oh." He glanced apologetically at the nervous youth. "Sorry," he said sincerely, slinging his arm around Toris shoulder. It seemed the appropriate thing to do.

Toris looked up surprised, not used to someone being so friendly. "No need to apologize, sir."

Alfred stopped walking. No way, did he just call him sir? "It's Alfred, don't… don't call me sir."

Toris nodded, his blue eyes twinkling. "If you don't mind me saying, you look exhausted. Maybe you should retire to your room, si- I mean, Alfred."

He was tired. But sleep was a luxury that he no longer had access to. It seemed that his ties to magic where far from being severed. "I need a bath," he muttered as he rubbed his hands on his face. Maybe with his body relaxed he could pretend that he wasn't being watched.

"I'll go fetch you some clean clothes."

Alfred nodded absentmindedly, already focused on the steamy, burning hot water that awaited him.

* * *

><p>"Do you think he's okay?"<p>

"Yes," she sipped some tea, her gaze on the person of question. "He just really needs some sleep." Had Roderich felt the same amount of fear as Alfred? She felt her heart ache as she watched the elf. He kept insisting he was fine, but he wasn't. All one had to do was look at him, his skin was deathly pale, and the bags under his eyes where so dark, it looked as if he had put charcoal purposely on his face.

"Are the demons really terrifying?" Toris asked lowly, playing with his cup of tea.

"They were never really too bad for me, but," her eyes hardened, "for others the experience is truly horrible. You fight, and fight, but you can only take so much before you break." She looked at her cup of tea, her gaze distant. "Sometime they'll tire and leave you, but it's never permanent. They come back. They always do."

Toris swallowed nervously, his stomach grumbling in disdain. "Ugh," he put his cup down, wrapping an arm around his stomach. He looked up at Alfred, who was watching the sunflowers intently. "Has-has he told you about it? The demon, I mean." He looked suddenly uncomfortable. "He told me a bit, I don't think he meant to."

"What did he say?" she asked her voice low, as if Alfred could even hear their conversation from where he stood.

"It's just one demon, it never speaks to him, just… just watches him," Toris gripped his belly tightly. "It only just recently showed himself, apparently." He grinned weakly, a quiver in his voice. "He said it looked human, except it was off, he wouldn't say what was off. I asked him, but he just smiled."

"Almost human?" she gripped the cup tightly, her knuckles turning white. "Can you remember anything else he said? The face, did he say anything about the demons face?"

Toris looked bewildered by the question. "Face? No, he didn't say anything about the demons face, though… though I think he was going to." He looked at her worriedly. "Is the face important?"

She looked back at the elf. He was just standing there, but even from this distance she could see the way his eyes glanced about the gardens, his gaze never staying in one spot for too long. He was looking for the demon. "It can't be the same one…" she mumbled to herself. It couldn't be the same demon. The former Divine had sealed him away, hadn't he? "In his last message, did the Archon mention when he would be returning?"

"N-no, he didn't say."

"Can you send him a message? Tell him that I think he should come back. Tell him that as Alfred's temporary healer I'm concerned for his wellbeing."

* * *

><p>It was bad. Truly bad.<p>

He'd seen him—_it_— the demon, Creators, he wasn't sure anymore. He had been in the gardens, the **real** gardens, this wasn't his fucking dreams, _damn it_, he hadn't imagined it!

He'd nearly dozed off when he realized how quiet it was. The wind had stilled, when previously it had howled across the garden, leaving a plethora of orangey-brown leaves in its wake. He hadn't thought much of it, and why should he?

But then he felt it.

That prickly feeling on his skin… he was being watched.

He turned back towards the Weeping trees, his eyes dilating at what he saw.

"Hah…" he looked crazily at the figure amongst the long limbed trees. "No-_no way_!" he stumbled back, quickly rubbing his eyes. But it was still there.

Just watching him.

Always watching him.

He stared at the tall _thing_, his heart racing as that blank face that he'd only just recently seen in the Fade looked at him. At least, he assumed it looked at him. It didn't have eyes, or for that matter a nose or mouth.

It looked eerily human. As if the demon had tried, really tried to be what it desired: a human.

In his opinion, its appearance was more unnerving than anything he had seen in the Fade.

It tilted its head, the shadows behind him quivering around its body. Its hand extended out, beckoning Alfred towards him.

"Fuck _that_…" He backed away. His eyes never once leaving the face-less demon. "Mythal guide me, protect me…" he chanted it lowly, his voice dripping with unconditional fear.

* * *

><p>"Alfred!"<p>

He jumped, his body dropping into a battle stance.

"Whoa!" Elizabeta held her hands out before herself. "It's just me."

"Heh, sorry," he smiled impishly, running a hand through his hair nervously.

She knew he wasn't okay, so what was the point in asking? Roderich always got touchy when she would ask. She reached out, grabbing his hand. His body tensed as she squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Ivan's on his way back. I thought you'd like to know." She released his hand, enjoying the way his eyes lit up at the news.

"Why do I care when he comes back?"

She nodded, her eyes soft. "Try getting some sleep."

"I will, trust me, I'm trying."

* * *

><p><em>Was it always this quiet? He walked through the garden, half expecting something to pop out. But nothing did.<em>

_ He smiled despite his paranoia._

_ Hadn't Elizabeta told him that Ivan would be returning soon? _

_ Wait, wasn't that him?_

_ "Hey!" he called out, relief filling his body at the sight of the platinum haired man. It had been damn near two weeks since he had left. _

_ Ivan didn't stir. _

_ Alfred looked at the body, anxiety creeping down his spine._

_ "Bastard, don't act like you can't hear me!" he shouted. Anger usually got a reaction out of him. _

_ Slowly Ivan turned his body._

_ Alfred's face paled. This… this wasn't Ivan._

_ Faceless._

_ He closed his eyes with a sense of dread engulfing his body. "Not cool," he said tiredly, his eyes opening to see the faceless Ivan still before him. As if the guy wasn't creepy on his own. He bit his lip anxiously, not liking this._

_ It was always just him and the demon._

_ Always._

_ Why the sudden change? Was, was it planning something?_

_ He walked away from Ivan._

_ He tried to leave the gardens but he couldn't. All the ways but one was blocked. The way towards the weeping trees._

_ All at once the scene from the gardens came to mind._

_ There it was. Just like last time, it was hidden in the trees._

_ Creators, it was tall. Much taller than Ivan. Far too tall, and much too thin to be human. And unlike the other demons it wore clothes. Dark, regal clothes. _

_ "What," he licked his lips nervously, "is your problem?" He broke his gaze from the demon, feeling a sickening sense of fear engulfing his body. Whatever blind courage he had mustered was disappearing as he stood before the source of his nightmares._

_ It walked towards him-more like glided._

_ Alfred stood rooted to the spot. His heart was beating so fast, vaguely he noted that he was shaking. His wanted to run, but he couldn't. He couldn't move his legs!_

_ It was in front of him now. Alfred lifted his head, and how he wished he hadn't. The skin of the creature was disgusting. It looked as if it had stitched it from countless human bodies._

_ It gripped Alfred's violently shaking wrist, the touch like lightning on his skin._

_ Alfred screamed. The action breaking whatever spell the beast had placed on his body. He punched the demon in the chest, turning to run away, a primeval fear pushing him to move. So complete was his fear that he didn't notice how his own shadow swelled abnormally._

_ He fell, and tripped harshly onto the floor. "Ugh," he looked down confused, his body shaking as he saw his leg gripped by swirling shadows. His markings lit up and he hissed angrily as he wasn't able to phase his leg out. "What?" he questioned breathlessly. This couldn't be happening… _

_ The smoky tendrils swirled about his body, binding his arms to his body awkwardly. "Fuck! Let—let me **go**!" _

_ The faceless creature was before him, the shadows originating from his body. The shadows on the demons back looked like the limbs of the trees that it had been hiding in. Frantically Alfred yelled, the sound animalistic. It echoed across the silent gardens._

_ The creature leaned forward, his writhing shadow-like appendages struck Alfred across his face. _

_ Forcefully they opened Alfred's mouth, pushing past Alfred's throat, through his lungs and heart._

_ Alfred choked, his eyes watering as he felt his body turn icy cold as the demon's appendages entered every organ and vein in his body. He tried screaming, but choked further on the tendrils. He could feel the shadows crawling through his blood, burrowing into his bone._

_ He was choking, drowning on the demons tendrils._

_ It hurt, Creators, it hurt. Tears streamed down his face. The demon...it was going to take his body._

_ Alfred's struggled in vain, his head dropping back as his lungs burned._

_ The tendrils jerked, and Alfred's body arched up, his body in spasms as white-hot pain ripped through his body._

He screamed. Blindly Alfred struck out, his markings lighting up as he shouted obscenities, his mind racing with thousands of thoughts. It was minutes before he calmed down, but the need to hit something, anything remained.

Tears ran down his face as he wrapped his arms around himself. The feeling of something in his throat, in his body remained.

Suddenly he felt so violently sick. He ran from his room, pushing past Toris who was rushing towards his room.

He could hear him shouting something but he didn't care. His legs carried him to the washroom where they promptly abandoned him, he fell to his knees, the sounds of his vomiting filling the room.

He stayed like that for quite some time, not sure what awaited him once he would leave the room. They were gonna ask questions. And he didn't want to answer anything… he just wanted to be free of magic, angrily he punched the floor. "Fucking magic," he growled out as his body began to shake. He punched the floor again, and again, and again. But the feeling of something trying to merge with him didn't go away.

* * *

><p>No one said a thing, which was fine by him. He didn't need their pity.<p>

Toris had brought him his meal, and Alfred felt his stomach flip as he eyed the dish. He covered his mouth, a low groan escaping his lips. "Thanks," he managed to say weakly.

"If you don't like it I can—"

"No, no, it's fine, really." He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "Just an upset stomach."

Toris nodded, but neither mentioned the incident from before.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked his eyes filled with concern.

"Naw, I'm fine, really." He looked away from Toris. "About before… I just wasn't feeling well. So really, don't worry."

Toris nodded. "If you would like to speak later, I'll be in the library."

Alfred truly did smile. It was weird, but comforting, to know that someone cared, truly cared.

* * *

><p>Alfred sighed tiredly, running his hand through his freshly wet hair. He had ended up bathing after dinner. His skin had been rubbed raw, but the cold feeling in his veins remained.<p>

He shivered, the feeling of being watched returning.

"Fuck you." He looked around the hall, his eyes narrowing. He hoped that bastard heard him.

Mindlessly he walked, his feet carrying him to Ivan's study.

He rested his forehead against the door, biting his lip anxiously. "I suck," he breathed out. The room wouldn't get rid of the demon. Nothing would.

Well that was a lie. He knew that Ivan could, and that pissed him off to no end. Still, the room practically radiated Ivan's presence. Maybe he could at least relax there. Quickly he looked behind, making sure that no one caught him entering the room. The last thing he wanted was them thinking he missed Ivan.

He opened the door and froze.

No way…

There he was, bent over, his back to Alfred.

For a brief second Alfred thought back to the faceless Ivan and that all-encompassing fear once again gripped his body. He ran towards Ivan, turning the man around.

Violet eyes. "Thank—I mean… hah," he laughed nervously, but it sounded more crazed than nervous. "You have a face."

"Yes, I have a face." He stood up, looking at Alfred with interested eyes. "Are you drunk?"

Alfred reached out, his hands trembling as he touched Ivan's face. He closed his eyes, a shaky breath leaving his lips. For a moment… for a moment he thought that the demon had come back.

He griped Ivan's face tightly as he remembered the feel of those tendrils forcing their way into his mouth and he paled.

Creators, he didn't feel well.

Alfred opened his mouth but felt his throat constrict. He shook his head. He needed to get out of here. He was freaking out again, he knew he was, but he couldn't stop it.

Ivan's arms fell to Alfred's back, pulling the elf against his chest.

"Didn't I tell you that I would come back before you broke?" he whispered into the elf's pointed ear.

He pulled back, lifting the elf's tear stained face. "I can make them go away. I can make sure they never hurt you again." He leaned down, his lips centimeters from Alfred's, his violet eyes boring into Alfred's crystal-blue.

He saw the unasked question in those eyes. This… this was something he had to choose.

It wasn't much of a choice. He needed Ivan, even if he didn't want him.

Alfred's body shook violently as he crushed his lips onto Ivan's. He cried into the kiss, the overwhelming feeling of relief filling him as Ivan deepened the kiss.

* * *

><p>an: Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! I actually felt like such a prick when I wrote this… _sigh_…


	7. Piece of You

a/n: You readers are the best! Seriously, I was absolutely floored by the response to the last chapter! You dudes totally made my month, no joke! I'm glad that you guys all enjoyed the last chapter. As always thanks for the review, favorites, and alerts!

I apologize for the short chapter. School isn't giving me much free time.

This is my first time ever writing a smut scene, so I hope I don't disappoint too much.

Disclaimer: APH does not belong to me, neither does Dragon Age.

Warnings: smut ahead

Chapter 6: Piece of You

* * *

><p>Such ferocity.<p>

He smiled against Alfred's lips, enjoying the feel of Alfred's body against his own.

Ivan's hands snaked their way through Alfred's hair, tugging the wheat-blond strands as he deepened the kiss. His tongue slipped into Alfred's inviting mouth, deftly he explored every inch of the moist cavern with a domineering tongue. Alfred gripped Ivan's robes tightly, moaning from the action.

Slowly Ivan pulled away, his violet gaze transfixed by Alfred's swollen lips. Tears still leaked from those sky-blue eyes, and Ivan could just make out the self-loathing in those glazed orbs.

"You don't have to be so upset," he whispered lightly, pulling Alfred towards him, relishing in the heat that the elf seemed to emanate naturally. "It's not that bad, is it?"

Alfred hissed in pain as his wound rubbed against Ivan, his eyes gaining a bit of clarity.

He moved his lips as if to answer Ivan's question, but stopped as he felt Ivan's fingers trailing down his neck. The markings lit up at Ivan's touch, and he smiled as he felt Alfred shiver from the action.

His lips once more found Alfred's, his hand traveling to the small of Alfred's back, where it quickly slid beneath Alfred's loose shirt.

At the action Alfred tensed, pushing lightly against Ivan. Oh, wasn't he precious? His lips descended from those decadent lips, trailing kisses and licking along that smooth neck, a mixture of skin and lyrium greeting him. Ivan smirked against the skin, feeling Alfred's pulse beneath his lips. He sucked against that rhythmic beating, enjoying the salty taste of his elf's skin.

Alfred squirmed against him, trying to push the taller male away from him.

Ivan pulled away, enjoying the angry-red mark forming on the skin. "Your heart is beating so fast," he said amused, his violet eyes glowing.

"Shut-up!"

He laughed sensuously, the noise sending shivers down Alfred's spine.

Beautiful.

He massaged Alfred's lower back slowly, enjoying the mixed sensation of heated living flesh and the cool markings of lyrium against his palm.

Alfred made a strangled noise as Ivan pushed him against the desk.

He needed to touch him, taste him.

Greedily he kissed Alfred, the action causing the poor elf to lean back on the surface of the desk for support.

"_Ngh_! W-wait, Iv-_mmph_!" His protest fell on death ears as Ivan plunged his tongue into that luscious mouth. A light sweet taste lingered on Alfred's tongue, and Ivan groaned lightly at the taste. He couldn't help but suck on that tongue, the taste of fruits and something nutty engulfing his senses.

At first Alfred moaned at the action, but within seconds his lungs burned for air, desperately he tried to push Ivan away, but only succeeded on falling fully on the desk, his back hitting the surface hard.

Only then did Ivan pull away, his violet gaze clouded as he eyed the elf. "You have been drinking," he announced breathlessly. Alfred panted hard, his wound aching.

"Y-yeah, I have," Alfred responded annoyed. His eyes where just as glazed as Ivan's, but the unmistakable glint of anger was still present.

A shadow of a smile appeared on Ivan's face. Maker, this elf was truly something. Was it any wonder that Alfred was a slave? Ivan loomed over the smaller male, his hand trailing down Alfred's clothed chest. Even through the shirt he could feel the lyrium markings throbbing.

He licked his lips, enjoying the lingering taste of Alfred.

Ivan didn't particularly enjoy sweet wines, but this… this he could get addicted to. "Delicious."

If possible his elf turned a deeper shade of red, his eyes narrowing at the declaration.

Alfred closed his eyes, his body suddenly tense. "Do what you have to," he began slowly, his eyes opening to meet Ivan's amethyst gaze. No longer were they fogged by desire. "Just make it leave me alone."

Ivan's own eyes narrowed. The elf couldn't deny that he didn't want this too. Hadn't he just been moaning seconds ago?

Oh, he'd make the elf _beg_ for this. "It's a temporary solution," he began, pulling Alfred's shirt up roughly. Alfred shivered as his skin was exposed to the cool air.

Ivan ran his hand down the expanse of skin and lyrium, marveling at the feel of the taut muscles, and thrilled by the way Alfred reacted to his touch.

The lyrium branding glowed brightly as he touched the exposed body. Alfred truly was deserving of having the sun branded onto his skin.

What he had to do was what they both wanted, or at least, what Alfred would soon want as well.

Ivan leaned forward, lapping at the skin before him. Alfred squirmed, a low moan escaping his lips. Ivan smirked against the skin, enjoying the contrasting feel of warm flesh and cold lyrium against his lips.

Slowly, purposefully he licked the inviting skin, feeling Alfred claw at the desk for some form of control. His moans had stopped, much to Ivan's annoyance.

"Don't hold back your voice," he mumbled into the heated skin, his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin.

"I-I don't kn-now what you're talking ab– _ugh_!"

A pool of heat traveled to Ivan's groin at the noise. He swirled his tongue around Alfred's bellybutton, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Like that," he mumbled into the flesh as he trailed kisses on Alfred's abdomen.

"W-wait!" Alfred tried pushing Ivan back, his sky-blue eyes clouded by desire. He tried pushing himself up but Ivan would have none of it.

"You said to do what I have to." He smiled hungrily, feeling Alfred tense.

Their eyes locked on to one another's as Ivan's tongue lazily traced about Alfred's hip.

Alfred's eyes widened, his mouth slightly parted, his chest rising and falling rapidly as Ivan began to tug at his pants.

He had barely tugged the pants down an inch when Alfred's trembling hands were atop his. Ivan looked at the hands curiously.

Was he scared? Surprised Ivan raised his head to find his elf violently shaking, his head downcast.

Something twisted in his stomach as he watched his elf. He released his hold on the clothing, his hands finding their way to Alfred's face.

"I'll be gentle," he reassured tenderly. Something which surprised even himself.

"I'm not scared."

No bravado in the voice. He _was_ scared.

Ivan gently raised Alfred's face, only to find those brilliant eyes closed. He nuzzled the elf's neck, inhaling the hypnotizing scent of embers. Had Alfred always smelled like this? It smelled like the dying embers of a flame, he closed his eyes, gently enveloping the elf within his arms. The lyrium brandings throbbed against his skin pleasantly.

"I said that I would protect you." He gripped Alfred's chin, his lips hovering over Alfred's. "And I take care of what belongs to me."

Alfred opened his eyes, defiance burning brightly. "I don't belong to you."

Ivan laughed, his lips descending onto Alfred's chapped ones. Is that what he thought? He pushed his knee in-between Alfred's legs, enjoying the muffled gasp from Alfred. The elf **did** belong to him. It was high time that he understood that.

Ivan would brand himself onto the elf, not only onto his body but his mind. He would always be connected to him. Always.

Sensuously Ivan rubbed his knee against Alfred's groin. The elf jumped at the contact, his eyes widening in surprise. He tried pushing Ivan away, but Ivan pushed back. Alfred moaned despite himself, his hands pushing against Ivan's shoulders.

Ivan varied the pressure, the speed, enjoying how Alfred squirmed beneath him. "I won't force you," he said as he broke the kiss, enjoying the free moans that left that delectable mouth. "You wish me to stop? Tell me."

Alfred looked at him confused. As if the words meant nothing to him. Slowly the fog covering his desire addled brain lifted, he opened his mouth but only a needy moan left his lips. Ivan smiled triumphantly, his knee rubbing against Alfred's member. "What was that?" he said lowly, seductively.

But try as he might Alfred couldn't utter one coherent sentence, at every instance Ivan would rub his knee against him. It was all Alfred could do to control the level of his voice.

Gorgeous.

Ivan rubbed against Alfred harder, causing the elf to arch against him. Desperately he clung to Ivan, his flushed body covered in a sheen of sweat. He moaned softly against Ivan, his hands tugging at Ivan's hair.

"Bastard," Alfred muttered hazily, but the remark lacked any vehemence. If anything, it sounded like a term of endearment.

He pushed Alfred down onto the desk, his own desire growing as he watched the elf breath erratically beneath him. With precision he removed his cloak, the heavy crimson material falling to the floor. Alfred followed each of his movements as if hypnotized, his brilliant sky-blue eyes so dark with desire that they looked more like the skies of the turbulent seas.

Soon Ivan was left with only his slacks. His skilled hands sought out Alfred's shirt, removing the scrunched up material.

He bent forward, his mouth hungrily attacking Alfred's. Seeking some control Alfred ran his hands through Ivan's platinum hair, tugging at the silky strands as the pleasure increased. Freely Ivan's hands explored the expanse of skin and lyrium, his hunger for the elf increasing with every touch. With out warning his hand traveled south, passing beneath Alfred's waistband.

Alfred tensed, his fingers letting the platinum strands of hair loose. Ivan broke apart from the kiss, his eyes looking at Alfred's seriously. "This is necessary." He kissed those worried lips gently. The pull on his hair returned as Alfred roughly kissed back.

Eagerly Ivan took Alfred's member in his hand, a thrill running through every nerve ending at the contact. Alfred broke the kiss, a sharp gasp filling the room. He closed his eyes tightly, blindly he bit his arm to keep some control.

Lyrium. He had lyrium branded there as well. Ivan couldn't keep the shudder of pleasure hidden. He knew that the process had to have been incredibly painful, but there was a sadistic pleasure in running his fingers on Alfred's length and _feeling_ the markings pulsate against him.

Predatorily he attacked Alfred's neck, biting and licking, while continuing to stroke Alfred's member.

Desperately Alfred gripped Ivan's shoulders, his nails digging deeply into Ivan's alabaster skin. Rivulets of scarlet blood trickled down, but neither Ivan nor Alfred noticed.

Alfred began rocking back against Ivan's trained hand, his thighs quivering from the pleasure coursing through his veins.

At that, Ivan lost all patience. He tugged the offending pants to Alfred's knees, where he promptly returned his attention to Alfred's straining cock.

Already precome was leaking.

He growled possessively, his own member twitching at the sight of the flushed elf. He reached behind Alfred, opening his cabinets hastily. Where was it? Finally at the bottom drawer he found it.

Ivan loomed over Alfred, a small glass vial in his hands. "To make it easier," he said hoarsely. His voice sounded foreign even to himself. What was this elf doing to him? Quickly he opened the vial, the smell of roses filling the room.

He slicked his fingers in the rosy oil, glad that Yao had forced him to take it. Maker, if Yao knew what he was planning on using this for he would never have forced it on him. Now that brought a smile to his lips.

"Is that what Yao made?" Alfred asked curiously. The strain in his voice apparent.

"When you're with me, I don't want you talking about anyone else." He brushed his lips against Alfred's. "Only talk about me. Only think about me."

He licked those chapped lips, his tongue given passage into that decadent cavern, the sweet taste of Alfred once again flooding his senses.

After a few minutes Ivan pushed Alfred's legs further apart. Quickly he pushed his slick finger into Alfred's entrance.

Alfred pulled away from the kiss, his eyes dilated. "Wait, just—" he squirmed uncomfortably. He gasped sharply as Ivan began moving his finger. Ivan moved slowly, his finger stroking with precise, deliberate strokes. "_Ugh_…" Alfred moaned deeply, his body shuddering as Ivan stroked something deep within him. Ivan stilled, the pressure around his finger suddenly tight. The sudden desire to just plunge his own cock within Alfred's body spiked, but he pushed it away. He promised he'd be gentle, hadn't he?

Slowly he pushed in his second finger, and after some time the third. Alfred's breath came in fast pants. He bit his lip as Ivan continued his strokes. His head hanged back as he groaned, whether from pain or pleasure, Ivan wasn't sure.

At last he pulled his fingers out, and Alfred breathed a sigh of relief. Ivan couldn't hide the amusement in his eyes. Did he think that was it? With the remaining oil he slicked his thick member. He gripped Alfred's hip, throwing one of Alfred's legs over his shoulder he positioned himself.

"Don't turn away," he demanded.

Slowly he penetrated Alfred's body, watching his elf's face scrunch-up in pain. Alfred bit his lip, blood seeping from the pressure. He held Alfred's hips tightly, enjoying the cold feel of lyrium against his skin. Alfred thrashed against him, trying in vain to move away.

Ivan shuddered as he sheathed himself completely within the elf's welcoming heat. Tears leaked from the ends of Alfred's eyes. Gently Ivan wiped away the tears. He had been with only two other people intimately, and none of them had ever cried, much less tried to fight him off.

"You said it- it wouldn't hurt!" Alfred accused, angrily slapping away Ivan's hand.

"No. I said I would be gentle." His eyes glinted darkly. "And I was. I didn't have to prepare you."

Without warning he began to move. Alfred clutched the surface of the desk desperately, with every thrust tears threatened to fall from his eyes. The pain lasted only so long, Ivan once again found that spot of pleasure within him.

Now each thrust brought a spike a pleasure, Alfred moaned lewdly, his control over his emotions all but gone under Ivan's touch. Alfred wrapped around Ivan's neck, desperate to cling to something.

Ivan began to thrust with renew vigor. Alfred's body was hot and tight, and Ivan couldn't help but shiver as he felt Alfred tighten about him. Ivan gripped Alfred's neglected member, pumping it with his thrust. He felt the tight rings of muscle tighten about him, and knew that Alfred was close.

He thrust hard, feeling Alfred's legs quiver as they wrapped around him. Did the elf realize that he was pushing him further in?

Without warning Alfred bit Ivan's shoulder as he came, his essence spilling in between them.

Ivan continued his frenzied thrust, his resolve crumbling as Alfred tightened uncomfortably around him. He came with a low groan, burying his head into Alfred's neck.

Their pants filled the quiet room, the only other sound the cackling of the dying fire.

Alfred's grip lessened on him as the minutes passed. Slightly concerned he pried the elf off his shoulder. "Sleeping?" he smiled despite himself. Of course he would be sleeping. Why was he surprised? Slowly he pulled out of the elf, his essence leaking out of the exhausted body.

Gingerly he lifted the elf, holding him tightly against his body.

"There can be no doubt that you belong to me now…" he mumbled into the crown of wheat-blonde hair.

* * *

><p>Alfred groaned as he awoke, his whole body aching. He opened his eyes but quickly closed them. "Creators," he muttered hoarsely. He slowly rubbed his face, the events of last night hitting him in the face.<p>

He bit his lip, hissing in pain as he reopened the cuts he made the previous night. He wanted to be mad, to go and punch Ivan in that happy pompous face of his.

But he choose this.

No one else was to blame for last night's events but him. He… he was the one who had given in to Ivan. Given in to the safety that only Ivan seemed capable of providing him.

He attempted to get up and hissed. Gently he rubbed his lower back, the pain increasing as he sat up. "Fuck."

Awesome, just awesome. He flopped down on the bed, his body protesting the action. He gripped the pillow and covered his face.

He laid like that for quite some time, his thoughts a jumbled mess.

"… Wait," he removed the pillow slowly, his eyes straining in the darkness of the room.

Silence. There was no presence, no feeling of being watched.

The demon was gone. He sighed, a feeling of relief running through his veins. "It worked," he said in disbelief.

But why had it worked? At first he had assumed that the demon would stay away so long as he was with a mage, but it didn't pan out as he planned. He had been with Elizabeta for countless hours, but the feeling of being watched didn't waiver. It only did when Ivan… his face flushed at the recent memories.

He groaned in dismay, burying his face into the pillow.

It hadn't been too bad. He had other experiences with sex that where far less pleasurable. And at least this time he himself got something out of it.

Angrily he threw the pillow across the room, the sound of glass shattering filling the silence. Alfred sat up awkwardly, his eyes scrutinized as he looked at the direction he had thrown the pillow. "There shouldn't be any glass there." He reached for the bed stand, looking for his glasses. He gripped the cool metallic frames, shivering as he placed them on his face.

Slowly he removed himself from the bed, his legs quivering as he stood. "He dressed me." He wasn't sure if he should be annoyed or happy at the prospect of Ivan putting clothes on him, but surely it was better than having Ivan taking them off.

The room was fairly dark, just how long had he been asleep? He limped across the room, every nerve ending in his body suddenly hyper-sensitive. Half-way across the room he stopped. "This isn't my room."

Why hadn't he noticed this earlier? He looked about the room, but it was to dark to see anything that would even give a hint as to who slept there.

The room was grand, much larger than his own, which he already thought was outrageously large. While he couldn't see much he could definitely make out the shapes of many books and scrolls scattered around the room.

He bit his lip contemplatively, the pain he felt from his lip absolving some of his self-loathing. No way, had Ivan brought him to his personal room? He wouldn't… would he?

"Fuck I don't know!" he shouted at himself. Angrily he ran his hand through his tangled hair. If this was indeed Ivan's room, then it was better to leave right now before he came back, because there was definitely _not_ gonna be a repeat of last night. Not ever.

Slowly he limped towards the door, not looking forward to his and Ivan's inevitable meeting.

He didn't need to be a seer to know that it was going to be an awkward affair.

* * *

><p>Ferelden was a strange country. Certainly he heard of the peoples love for the mabari hounds, a creature that the Tevinter mages had created, but knowing that Fereldeners loved the intelligent creatures did not prepare him for the stench of the land.<p>

Wet dog.

He had always assumed that Ivan was stretching the truth when he mentioned that you could find Fereldan by its stench alone. Now he suspected that there was some truth to it.

oOo

**Mabari**: A breed of dogs magically bred. Each mabari chooses their master for life in a process called imprinting. Although fierce combatants, a mabari companion is shown to be a highly sociable animal, and though not capable of speech, they can clearly respond to speech with growls, whines, barks and several other actions that demonstrate intelligent comprehension. To be the master of a mabari anywhere in Ferelden is to be recognized instantly as a person of worth.

oOo

Yao scrunched his nose in distaste. It wasn't just the smell of the land that made him take pause it was, well, everything. The land was absolutely dreary. In the Imperium one didn't have to go far to see some color, but here everything was muted.

Even their style of clothing reflected this. In the Imperium one dressed regal, but not so much so that one lost practicality, this wasn't Orlais after all, but here Fereldeners dressed not for style, but simply for practicality, nothing more and nothing less.

And the populace, Maker, where should he start? They were gruff, lacking any moral conduct. Ferelden men and women were definitely larger than those outside the country, and in the case of the men, hairier. They seemed to blame their trouble on the mages, but then again, so did the populace of most of Thedas, the empire excluded.

But truly the worst offense had to be the food. Ferelden food lacked any spices, and the majority of Ferelden cuisine seemed to be composed largely of nothing else but meat. Roasted meat, meat stew, broiled meat, meat pies…

It did nothing to quench his desire to return home. In truth he had just arrived in Ferelden, but the trip had taken weeks. Already he missed the gardens, the food, the rhythm of life that only the empire seemed capable of creating. "Huh, like a nostalgic old fool," he lamented, resting his arms on the balcony.

Already he had sent messages to Ivan, but they wouldn't reach the empire for quite some time. Which was fine. Nothing of extreme importance had happened. King Basch seemed to be having a dispute with his Grey Wardens, and had pointedly apologized to him for not being able to see him yet. He had said as much in his letters to Ivan.

oOo

**The Grey Wardens**: an ancient organization of warriors of exceptional ability dedicated to fighting darkspawn throughout Thedas. They are headquartered in the very place of their founding, the Weisshaupt Fortress in the Anderfels(at one point the western half of the Tevinter Imperium), but maintain a presence in most other nations as well. The Grey Wardens are known for ignoring a recruit's racial, social, national, and even criminal background if they deem the person valuable in terms of character or ability.

oOo

His chocolate eyes gazed longingly at the horizon, as if he would be able to see the Imperium if he wished it hard enough. Mindlessly his fingers drummed along the banister, his mind wandering.

Tiredly he rubbed his face, his hair dancing along with the wind. He had asked about Alfred in the letters. He knew that Alfred would do well, but it wasn't the ritual that had him concerned, no, it was the after affects of the test. Demons constantly watched mages in the Fade, and if they found you interesting enough they would follow you, hound you… watch you.

He was lucky that on his trip to the Fade he had his spirit with him. He couldn't remember a time when the spirit entity wasn't with him. Ever since he was a child he felt the presence around him. He didn't fear it, and why should he? It never felt malicious, on the contrary, it was soothing, and all it ever did was watch him curiously, as a child watched the world in wonder. It only approached him once, and that meeting was the only proof he needed in trusting it.

When he underwent the Harrowing It shielded him from all the demons, but the ones he had to face.

Alfred wasn't as lucky as him.

He truly hoped that Ivan knew what he was doing.

"Are you alright?"

Yao turned, light surprise in his eyes. "Ah, your Highness," he bowed, his ill-ease set aside. "I apologize, I didn't hear you approaching." He smiled, his eyes twinkling. "I was just thinking of home."

She smiled, despite her young age she carried a mature air about herself. Unlike the rest of Fereldan she was dressed in a deep red dress, stripes extenuating the ensemble. "You have been gone for quite some time. It's understandable." She smiled earnestly. "When I'm apart from my brother for too long I become quite anxious myself."

He smiled.

Yes, he had heard of the princesses' co-dependency problem. In fact it was one of the reasons that Ivan didn't want to form an alliance with the country. But she didn't rule the land, her brother did, and King Basch, despite some character flaws, was a good ruler. Even the Divine grudgingly admitted that as long as Fereldan was ruled by Basch, it would be a valuable ally.

"Do you know the Divine?" he asked suddenly. Divine Roderich seemed as if he personally knew the King, so certainly he had to know his sister.

"Her holiness the Divine? I've never met her."

Of course.

"No, I meant do you know a man named Roderich?" It was a stretch, surely there were thousands of men named Roderich in Fereldan alone.

"Roderich?" she tilted her head, her blue ribbon catching Yao's attention. "I think my brother had a friend named Roderich."

Well that was interesting. The Divine of the Tevinter Imperium and the King of Fereldan were friends? He would have to make sure before he sent word back on this.

"How long have they known each other?"

She was silent for a few seconds before she shook her head. "I don't know. Big brother usually doesn't like telling me about his personal affairs."

Yao nodded, smile still in place.

"Has his Majesty finished with the Grey Wardens?" he asked casually, but his eyes betrayed him. Their intensity caught the princess by surprise.

"No." She reached for his hand and gently squeezed it. "I'm sure it won't be much longer. It seems as if everyone is tiring of arguing with one another."

He looked at her hand and smiled gently. "Yes, not much longer." But 'much longer' wasn't fast enough, he couldn't help fretting over the welfare of Alfred, or for that matter Ivan.

What had Ivan meant by that answer?

* * *

><p>Fuck. <em>Fuck<em>!

Ivan was out there.

More out of shock he stood at the doorway, his eyes locked onto Ivan's impassive face. He didn't even look bothered! How could he just sit there and act like he didn't have somebody in his bed?

Harshly he closed the door, his annoyance blinding his common sense.

He couldn't leave the room without having to pass him.

How had he never realized that Ivan's study was connected to his room?

"This blows." Stiffly he made his way towards the bed, but then thought better of it. Biting his lip he hobbled towards the wall. Slowly he sat down, his backside aching from the curt motions.

"Fantastic." He leaned back, a grimace on his face. Gingerly he raised his legs, his arms resting on his knees. It looked like that awkward confrontation was going to happen sooner than he had anticipated.

Anger resurfaced, and he closed his eyes as his body shook in rage.

He was mad. Mad at Ivan, pissed at the demon, but worst of all he was angry with himself.

It wasn't the sex that he had a problem with, it was, was—shit, he'd been so damn _willing_. He buried his face in his knees, his face pale as he recalled his shameful moaning.

"He's not gonna let me live this down." He realized, horror written across his face.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he mumbled into his knees, the muffled noise doing nothing to put him at ease.

He gripped his knees tightly, the pain alleviating some of his anger.

"It doesn't matter. He- he was moaning too!" Ivan had moaned, especially at the end. Alfred felt his own body heating up at the memory. He groaned, banging his head against the wall. How could just remembering the noise get him so flustered?

Quickly he got up, a hiss escaping his lips as he scrambled towards the door.

It wasn't fair that he was in here freaking out about what happened, while Ivan sat outside looking like his usual self.

If he was feeling like shit, he damn sure was going to make sure that Ivan shared in his grief. He opened the door purposefully, forcing his legs to walk normally as he entered the room.

Ivan looked up, a pleasant smile on his face as he caught sight of Alfred.

"Here I thought you were going to sleep through the rest of the day," he teased.

Alfred felt his eye twitch. "I might have, but the room smelled like you."

Ivan raised a brow but the damn smile he wore didn't diminish in the least. "As I recall you didn't have a problem with my odor." His violet eyes twinkled mischievously. "It seemed you were trying to wash yourself in it last night."

Well shit. Alfred felt his face flush, his eyes darkening with anger. "I didn't want to wash myself in your scent I just –," he blushed, and Ivan's smile grew.

"Yes?" he prompted, amusement in his eyes.

"I-I just wanted you to get rid of the demon." He crossed his arms across his chest, hoping that the grimace that crossed his face could pass as a look of anger. "And you did. So don't expect a repeat of last night."

Ivan laughed, pushing his seat back he stood. "Yes, I got rid of the demon… for now." He walked towards Alfred, looking smugly pleased.

"For now?" Alfred repeated back dumbly, not liking where this conversation was going.

"Yes, for now," Ivan said as he loomed over him. "Don't tell me that you forgot." Alfred looked back at him confused. Possessively he traced Alfred's lip with his finger, blood tinting his skin. "You bit your lip again," he said with a frown.

Alfred slapped his hand away.

Slowly Ivan brought his finger to his mouth, licking the side of the digit sensuously, before plunging the blood slicked finger into his mouth. Alfred turned away, his blush spreading to his ears. Creators, why had that excited him?

He heard Ivan laugh, and turned back scowling.

"You really don't remember what I said last night, do you?" he watched Alfred openly, a hungry glint in his eyes. "I suppose I'll take it as a compliment of my skills."

"I'd prefer if you didn't," Alfred growled out.

"You don't mean that," he said smugly.

This bastard…

"Just tell me what you meant. What do you mean the demon is only gone for now?" Ivan smiled, and Alfred felt something twist painfully in the pit of his stomach.

"It's only temporary. I told you that last night," his smile turned predatory, "then again, you were preoccupied, I suppose it only makes sense that you don't remember."

Alfred felt a cold chill pass his veins. It was only temporary?

"So it'll come back?" Ivan nodded. "Oh."

"Now you see why it won't be a one-time deal, yes?"

"What?" Alfred grit his teeth angrily, his blue eyes flashing dangerously. "You tell me it's gonna come back, and think that I'm going to sleep with you again?"

"We didn't do so much sleeping as—"

"Dude!" roughly he punched Ivan in the shoulder. The moment his skin made contact the room turned icy-cold.

Ivan gripped Alfred's wrist, twisting the arm as he spun the elf around.

"Ugh, let go!" he screamed as he thrashed against Ivan.

"I didn't force you to do anything. You chose this, I even gave you the chance to stop, and you didn't take it." He pushed against Alfred's twisted arm, his eyes narrowing as Alfred thrashed harder. "Do you think you can handle the demon on your own?" he asked as he forced Alfred's face up to meet his own piercing violet eyes.

He laughed as he saw the slight fear in those orbs. "Why do you think I came back so soon? The healer was worried about you. It looked like you were about to give into the demon, considering last night's activities I believe you would have."

"No, I-_gah_! Fuck, stop!" Alfred screamed. He didn't need to know what they did last night, he'd been there after all.

Ivan released his hold on Alfred's face, but he couldn't break away from those violet eyes. They seemed to pull him in, demanding his undivided attention.

Ivan's eyes softened as he released Alfred's arm, allowing the elf to move away. "If you don't want my help, that's fine." He walked back towards his desk, a small smile on his lips. "At the very least it will be entertaining to see how long you can last without my help."

"What?" Alfred asked confused, still standing at the spot that Ivan had released him on.

Ivan went back to the work scattered about his desk. The conversation effectively over.

That was it? He wasn't going to force him to do anything? He looked hesitatingly at Ivan before walking towards the door.

"Alfred." He stopped, his heart beating hard. He turned to look at Ivan, as their gazes met Alfred felt a shiver run down his spine. "If you can't handle it, I will intervene. Whether you want me to or not, understand?"

"Tch, that won't happen."

"That remains to be seen," Ivan said with a smile, his violet eyes shining brightly.

Alfred stared back, almost as if he was bewitched he found it hard to break away. Only when Ivan broke contact did he turn and leave, a feeling of dread growing with every step he took from the room.

* * *

><p>an: Hope you guys enjoyed!


	8. Trouble Is a Friend

a/n: Oh god, I am so sorry for updating so late! I just transferred earlier this year, so everything has been a bit chaotic this semester. But I don't plan on dropping this story! I sincerely hope that you can forgive me.

Thank you very much for the reviews, alerts, and favorites! They kept me extremely motivated.

disclaimer: Hetalis-Axis Powers and Dragon Age do not belong to me.

Chapter 7: Trouble Is a Friend

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><p>Truly the bath was the one thing the mages got right. Alfred sighed as he sank further into blissful heat, the scalding water turning his skin a lovely shade of red. Yao had once tried to explain to him how it was that the water was kept constantly hot, but honestly, he couldn't care less. It involved magic, which was all he needed to know.<p>

He had already scrubbed his body raw on his previous bath, but that hadn't stopped him from inflicting more damage on his already taxed skin. The pain he could deal with, it seemed that it was pleasure that he had a problem with.

Thankfully he had made it back to his room without anybody seeing him leave Ivan's study. He had been worried that he would walk into his room and find the healer or worse, Toris.

Toris had already seen him at his worse, he didn't need to see Alfred in his most shameful moment as well.

Anxiously he rubbed his neck, feeling the marks that Ivan had left on his skin. "Ass." He glanced down at the water, his sullen reflection staring back at him. "Did he have to bite?" The marks stood out amongst his skin, angry and dark, some already bruising.

He looked a mess.

It wasn't even the sex that was bothering him anymore. No, he had accepted the fact that he had slept with Ivan. It had been his choice, a poorly made one, but nonetheless his. And he stood by his decisions.

No matter how irritated he was with their outcome.

It was Ivan's words that were still bothering him. Ivan had told him that the demon would be back, and despite wishing that he was lying he knew that the violet eyed man wasn't. And why should he? If he wanted Alfred to sleep with him, he could force him. He certainly wouldn't be the first to do so.

His hand fell from his neck, instead tracing the scar on his hip. Sadik had definitely not cared, and he hadn't been as… gentle. Creators, was he actually comparing sex between the two?

"It doesn't matter," he groaned out. "It really doesn't."

But _why_ sex? What the hell did it have to do with demons?

This was absolutely stupid. Did Ivan really expect him to think this was okay? He growled, his hands balled up into fist. No, of course he didn't. Bastard couldn't care less what Alfred thought.

This was one issue he refused to compromise on. But just how long could he hold on to his sanity? Ivan hadn't been lying when he said Alfred was near his breaking point. Was insanity worth it?

He looked at his chest and arms, the metal trails glistening in the water. Hadn't he already survived something he wasn't meant to? Yes, there were side effects from living, but he was alive. Something that was fundamentally impossible. Heh, he was worrying for nothing. He would succeed. After all he was Dalish, and the Dalish would never again surrender.

Smiling Alfred sunk further into the water, willingly allowing his body to sink. The moment he felt the heated water on his chin he sucked in a mouthful of air. With eyes clenched he immersed himself into the burning heat.

He hadn't done this in ages. Peter would always challenge him to these matches, and Alfred would always oblige. It was a simple game, and he hadn't thought much of it. But now there was a nostalgic feeling in doing so.

Peter had never won a match, and to Alfred's amusement, would hold a grudge for days. His lungs burned, the aching need for oxygen pushed back as Alfred refused to emerge. How long could he hold his breath?

A few minutes later Alfred emerged in an explosion of water, his gasping chokes for air filling the room.

"A-are you alright?"

He turned toward the frantic voice, his blue eyes large as he tried to make out the figure in the bathhouse. The steam that filled the room wasn't helping. "Fine," Alfred gasped out, his lungs still burning.

"… Do you need help?"

Hastily Alfred reached for his glasses. "Toris?"

"Yes, it's me." The sound of footsteps echoed in the room. "Are you alright? I knocked on the door, but you didn't answer," he explained worriedly.

"Fine, I'm fine. Just choked on some water," he lied. Cursing softly he put down his glasses. At the moment it didn't matter if he wore them or not. It wasn't like he would be able to see with all this steam anyway.

Vaguely he made out Toris' shape.

"I brought you some clean clothes." He heard Toris shuffle nervously. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah." He smiled fondly. Toris had been really worried, hadn't he? "I just needed some… sleep."

"I went to your room last night, to tell you that the Archon had returned. But you weren't there."

Alfred bit his lip contemplatively. There was no way he was going to tell Toris where he really was. "I had to clear my mind, I went for a walk." He reached for the towel that he had left on the floor. Quickly he emerged from the bath, the towel wrapped around his waist. Why didn't they make these bigger?

The marks on his body were a clear answer as to what it was he was really doing last night. "Can you toss me my clothes?" he asked suddenly.

"Toss?"

"Yeah, dude," Alfred laughed. "Just throw me my shirt."

Toris hesitated for a second before flinging the garment. Alfred caught it easily and walked towards Toris as he pulled the material over his head. "Thanks."

Smiling, Toris handed Alfred the rest of his clothing. "I'll wait for you outside, all right?"

Moments later Alfred emerged from the bathhouse, his skin still red from his bath, steam emanating from his body.

"How did you know?" Toris asked curiously, while Alfred dried his hair.

Alfred looked at him with a raised brow.

"Oh," he smiled bashfully. "I meant, how did you know the Archon had come back?"

His hands stilled. Crap… did Toris know? He glanced up, a bit of anxiety in his eyes. "I saw him during my walk. He wanted to talk." He bit his lip, resuming drying his hair. "He said he could help with my problem."

Causally he observed Toris. There was no way he could know. Alfred doubted that Ivan would tell anyone, and he himself hadn't said anything.

Toris smiled and Alfred found himself relaxing. Creators, he believed him. "I'm relieved. I-I know you said not to worry, but…" he wrapped his arm around his stomach, his gaze on the floor. Shit, he really had been worried. Guiltily Alfred looked away. "An-anyway, I'm glad that he's helping you. Sometimes the Archon can be very kind."

"Kind?" Clearly they were talking about two different people. That bastard was anything but kind.

Toris nodded. "Magister Elizabeta wrote to him. She explained our concern for you, he must have come as soon as he received it. I was actually worried that she was being forceful in her letter," he admitted nervously. "She is a rather strong woman."

A warm feeling spread through Alfred's body at Toris' words. Toris and Elizabeta were odd for humans. In fact, so was Yao, none of them acted like the humans he was so accustomed to meeting. And in the case of Yao and Elizabeta, who were mages, it was even stranger. Mages who were kind, he doubted they existed, much less that he would ever meet one.

It was odd actually having someone concerned for your wellbeing. The only other person who had worried about him was Peter.

If people had cared about him before his time with Sadik he didn't know. He glanced down at the lyrium markings exposed on his wrist, his gaze hard. These fucking marks had stripped him of his memories, of his past, and if Muhammad was to be believed they had nearly taken his life as well.

"Alfred?"

He looked at Toris, a sheepish grin in place.

"Heh, sorry. Got lost in my thoughts there for a second, what did you say?"

"How is the Archon going to help you? Is it some magic spell or…" he trailed off seeing Alfred look away uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

He couldn't lie to Toris with a straight face. Not after hearing how genuinely concerned he had been about him.

Alfred shook his head, his eyes earnest. "Don't apologize, it's just… I-I—" he rubbed his face tiredly. What the hell was he supposed to say? He wasn't even sure why it had worked. "I think it was a ritual."

Toris nodded, and Alfred smiled in relief. Hopefully he wouldn't ask any more questions on what it was he actually had done.

"Are you hungry? I brought some food to your room before I came here."

Smiling brightly Alfred swung his arm around Toris' neck. "Has anyone told you how awesome you are?"

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><p>What more did he expect to find? Slightly annoyed Ivan leaned back into his chair. He hadn't seen the elf in days, in fact, he was more than certain that Alfred was avoiding him. As if he would pounce him the moment he saw him. Honestly, he meant what he had said. He'd leave Alfred to his own devices until he himself deemed it necessary to intervene.<p>

Aggravated Ivan closed the chest that Sadik had sent him. The few belongings in there could only give him so much information. Alfred was Dalish, that much was obvious just from looking at him. What he wanted was more than that. Where exactly from Ferelden was Alfred from? How had he come to Tevinter? Slavers. More than likely it had to be them. No way would Alfred have willingly left his clan to become a slave in Tevinter. If it was slavers, did that mean that Alfred had been taken from his family? It wasn't as if he could ask Alfred, the elf was, after all, avoiding him.

It wouldn't do any good anyway. From the notes Sadik had sent Alfred's memory was dodgy at best. Anything and everything that was Alfred's history was known by only one person: Sadik.

Had word reached the other countries? Surely Orlais had gotten wind of his ownership of a slave. Their Divine would surely be rejoicing at the hypocrisy. The opinions of fools didn't bother him. Orlais knew better than to actively gloat in the face of the Tevinter Imperium. But that didn't mean that he wasn't worried. Surely talk about the anti-slavery Archon owning a slave would be disastrous for alliance talks. Truth be told, he wasn't enthusiastic about the alliance with Ferelden. The Imperium had never fallen once since its founding, and it certainly wouldn't find its ruin under Ivan's reign. But the alliance was important to Yao, so it was important to him too.

It wasn't as if he had gone looking for a slave. It had been a matter of keeping some form of political stability in the senate. It had been justifiable. Now… now it was a complicated matter.

The elf was entertaining, refreshing, if not annoying, at times.

And more than anything Alfred was exciting.

Oh, he understood that people hated him, loathed him and wished death upon him, but they'd never say it to his face. The blighted Magisters would hide behind their false smiles, refusing to openly oppose him. It was sickening to watch.

But Alfred didn't care. _His_ elf couldn't care less what Ivan thought. And that excited him. It excited him that Alfred stood against him. Excited him that the elf _needed_ him. Excited him that he _owned_ him.

And that disgusted him. Disgusted him to know that he received such pleasure in knowing that Alfred belonged to him.

Would this be seen as a weakness to the senate? He had seen the way the Magisters looked at him, as if he was no better than them. He hadn't realized that the Magisters would be so interested in Alfred, but they were. All of them.

… Were they thinking of taking their frustrations out on the elf? Ivan snorted. He'd like to see them try. It wasn't as if the elf couldn't defend himself. After all, Alfred had showed his worth fighting those Qunari, hadn't he? He could stand on his own, at least, against things in this realm. As for the demons, Ivan was there, so there was no need to be worried for the elf's safety.

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><p>He loved this hustle and bustle around him. It helped to ease his longing for home. King Basch was still preoccupied with the Grey Wardens, something which irked Yao more than he was willing to admit.<p>

He had taken to inhabiting the library, noting that it was vastly smaller than Ivan's. The books were interesting, but one could only be interested in the founding of Ferelden for so long. Yao knew how Ferelden was founded, remembered learning how the country had fought for their independence against Orlais.

It was sheer boredom that had brought him to leave the palace and explore the city of Denerim. And how glad he was that he did. It was no Minrathous, but Denerim had a certain charm about itself. Though the constant stares were a reminder of home. But the stares directed at him back in the Imperium had to do with being Ivan's right-hand man, here, he suspected, they had to do with being a foreigner. And he had gone through all that trouble to dress ambiguously too.

Hours later, with the sun lowering, Yao found himself in the alienage of the city. Smiling wistfully he looked about the stands. Elven culture had always interested him. How could one not be interested in the tragic history of the once proud elves? Their former empire had once covered all of Thedas, their people numerous and, if Elvish lore was to be believed, immortal. For centuries they had lived in peace. And quicker than one could imagine they lost it all when they made contact with the first humans their nation had ever met. Nothing remained of their empire, and what could be remembered of their culture was desperately clung to.

oOo

**Alienage**: Squalid city wards in which elven citizens dwell. Though the realities of alienage life may seem harsh, the city elves are a downtrodden but spirited folk, and an alienage often serves to keep prejudiced invaders out, as much as to pen the elves in.

oOo

He glanced around, trying to remember every detail of the area. Alienages could be found throughout Thedas. Every country had one, the Imperium certainly had hundreds, but none rivaled those in Orlais. Orlais' capitol, Val Royal, was home to the largest alienage in all of Thedas. The land was no bigger than the market district of Denerim. Buildings stacked over one another, effectively blocking the sun from ever shining on the elven people.

How could the elves in Val Royal stand it? At the thought of the sun his mind wandered towards Alfred.

Had Alfred visited this alienage? It wasn't unheard of for the Dalish clans to trade with human settlements. From his research he knew that some clans even sent scouts to the alienages to look for any who wished to join them.

It would fit with what Ivan and he suspected of the elf's origin. Alfred's accent was very similar to that of the Dalish in Ferelden. But beyond that they knew nothing more.

Mind preoccupied, Yao walked aimlessly, until the smell of seasoned meats filled the air. Maker, that smelled delicious. He found himself following the mouth-watering aroma, thoughts of Alfred pushed to the back of his mind for the moment. Clearly the food was not of Fereldan origin. How long had it been since he ate something that was actually edible? Far too long.

Within minutes he found himself in front of a simple looking tavern. Besides a few customers it was mostly empty. No one looked at him as he entered, a happy reprieve from the stares he had received as he wandered the bustling market of Denerim.

The barmaid looked at him with curious eyes, no doubt trying to figure out what a human was doing in this area.

"Welcome," she said warmly, her lips curling around the word awkwardly.

An Orlesian. And here he thought that he was out of his element being here. It was one thing to be a Tevinter citizen in Ferelden, sure, people were distrustful of you, but an Orlesian? That was definitely asking for trouble.

The country had barely just gained their independence from Orlais, and after 30 years they had a very fragile relationship. Ivan hadn't paid too much attention with the peace talks between the two countries, trusting Yao to deal with matters outside the Imperium.

And he had.

He and the rest of Thedas watched curiously as the two countries interacted, seeing the political strain on both ends. It was still perilous to be an Orlesian in Ferelden, just like it was dangerous to be a Fereldener in Orlais.

"Hello," he replied back casually, walking towards the counter. Maker, whatever was cooking smelled heavenly.

He sighed in relied as he sat down, his appetite suddenly flaring.

"We don't get many humans around here," the barmaid said.

"That's a shame," Yao said seriously. "Whatever is cooking smells absolutely delicious. They're missing out."

She laughed. "You, you I like. Not like the other humans I see." She winked, rather suggestively, and Yao felt his face heat up. Well she certainly had that Orlesian charm. "What you're smelling is an Orlesian lamb soup. Best you'll find in all of Ferelden. Nothing like that garbage they call food here."

He smiled. "Sounds good."

She nodded. "Would you like anything to drink? It's not the finest, but I do have some Orlesian wine."

He shook his head, and she turned to get his meal. It sounded tempting, even the cheapest Orlesian wine tasted heavenly. But it would be foolish to drink in a country where people didn't need a reason to fight you.

"Here you go. Not many Fereldeners who enjoy this type of food," she said casually.

Well, he wasn't a Fereldener. If he was, he would be eating that travesty they called food. "I take it most of your customers are Orlesian?"

"Not all of them. Those who aren't Orlesian usually have business in this area. I bet a pretty," Yao stiffened at the word, "human like yourself must have a reason for coming here too, no?"

"No, nothing important like that. I'm just passing through." He looked at his meal, then at her. "Why, is something happening in the alienage?" her faced stiffened. Should he push the subject? "I could possible mention it to the king," he politely stated.

"The king?" she asked intrigued. She leaned forward, her figure looming over him. He had seen Ivan pose just like that, but unlike him, her stance lacked any presence. "Just who did I allow into my tavern?"

Now he remembered why he hated dealing with Orlesians. If they weren't threatening you, they were trying to seduce you. Would she still be interested if she really knew where he was from? "From the Circle."

She nodded, eyeing him with renewed interest. "So a mage?" He nodded. Why hide his affinity for magic? "You should be careful who you admit that to," she warned, staring Yao in the eye.

"Yes, magic does have the habit of making people uncomfortable."

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. "No, no, you don't understand. You know how you asked if there was something happening in the alienage?" He nodded, not liking were this conversation was heading. "We have a slaver problem."

Maker.

"Tevinter slavers?" she nodded.

How? How had he not known? He fisted his hands, crescent indentations in the palm of his hands. This was troublesome. A cluster-fuck of a situation. He had planned various scenarios, _various_, but never had he considered what to do if slavers were involved. Why had his contacts not told him about this?

Slavery was usually the dividing factor on whether a country would be willing to work with the Imperium. Slavery was a stain on Thedas, all the nations unanimously agreed on this. But they also agreed with one another on a darker level. Slavers just didn't appear in a country, oh no, it was much more complicated than that. Nations willingly allowed their citizenry to be taken, taken and sold for gold.

It was a problem, one that was now damn near impossible to fix. Ivan had tried, hell, he was still trying. But when it was the government of other nations allowing slavers to do this, there wasn't much they could do. It seemed that Orlais, Ferelden, and the other nations seemed to think the blame for slavery was all the Imperium's fault, but at this point it wasn't.

"I take it you really didn't know?"

"This is the first I've heard of it."

"Hadn't you noticed how empty the alienage is?" she asked suddenly.

Well now it made sense. No wonder the elves had given him such stern looks. Had they suspected _him_ of being a slaver? That was ridiculous, preposterous, he would never…

What good had slavery done? The Tevinter Imperium's whole legacy was founded on the deaths of millions of slaves, yet the empire was unwilling to change. It wasn't just the Magisters, even the citizenry clung so desperately to their archaic structure of living. So intertwined was slavery with the modern Imperium that, indeed, it did look impossible to remove.

And then there was blood-magic. It seemed that wherever there was slavery, blood-magic wasn't far behind. How could his fellow citizens buy slaves who were obviously kidnapped? Did they think that – a flash of sky-blue eyes stopped his mental tirade. He swallowed thickly, his gaze guilt-laden as he eyed the barmaid.

She looked at Yao with such sympathy that he nearly lowered his gaze. "You shouldn't fret, it's not obvious that you're a mage. Unlike me you can hide what you are."

It was depressing. She wouldn't be so kind if she truly knew where he was from. But she had a point. He _could_ pretend he wasn't a mage. But why? He had nothing to hide. If she didn't like Ferelden, why didn't she just leave?

"What brought you to Ferelden?" he asked curiously, keeping his tone light.

"Problems in Orlais," she saw Yao's confused face. "Orlais is quite good at keeping her problems from leaking out. Not many know that the Divine has gone mad looking for a runaway mage."

"A mage?"

"Yes, a mage. Apparently this mage destroyed some artifact belonging to Andraste herself. Most have been truly priceless for her to send the Templars out. And what does she find when she does? A slaver smuggler ring, right in the heart of the Chantry. Rumor is that she's considering an Exalted March against the Tevinter Imperium."

oOo

**Andraste**: The prophet whose teachings later served as the foundation for the formation of the Chantry. She was the spiritual wife of the Maker, the being whom the Chantry worships.

**Exalted March**: The Exalted Marches are religious crusades led by the Chantry, though the first Exalted March was that of Andraste against the Tevinter Imperium.

oOo

An Exalted March? Against the Imperium? There was no way he could have missed something of such vital importance. He had contacts in countless nations, and none of them had even breathed word of an impending war with Orlais.

"Is that why you left? To avoid the war?"

"The bit about the Exalted March is just that, a rumor. The Divine never publicly denied it, but neither has she said it was true. As for leaving, it was because of the slavers. But then look what happened. I came to Denerim only to find slavers here too. Seems as if they have a thing for elves," she muttered bitterly.

A rumor… oh how he would love to believe that. But rumors usually had some basis in reality. The Imperium was no longer the military might that it had once been, but that didn't mean that they were weak, far from it. If it wasn't for the unending war with the Qunari the Imperium would have regained the land that it had lost in countless wars for independence.

Would Orlais truly risk war? Possibly. The Divine already held a grudge against the Imperium for defiling the Chantry. Orlais would also have the advantage if they did attack. With the war with the Qunari raging on, the Imperium would find itself fighting on two fronts. It would be reckless and suicidal. He needed to warn Ivan. Warn him and gather as much information as he could.

But where to gather information? His contacts had proved useless this time. Slowly his amber gaze flickered to the barmaid. Noting that her gaze kept shifting back to the door, but he couldn't care less at the moment if she was expecting someone.

Surely she would have more information, if not about Orlais, then at least about the situation here in Denerim.

"Have you asked for help against the slavers?"

"Of course, but it seems that the nobility will have none of it. They refuse to send help."

Ferelden politics were a mess. Yao glanced at his soup, no longer interested in it. King Basch may be the ruling leader of Ferelden, but he received his power from the Ferelden nobility. It was amazing that anything ever got done.

Why didn't the king just – "You git!" – what? Before he could question it further the sound of wood splitting filled the air.

Yao jumped from his seat, the air wrapping around him as he focused on the door. Was it slavers?

The barmaid laughed, and he couldn't help but look quizzically at her. Was this a normal occurrence here?

"A customer."

"Customer?" Yao repeated in disbelief. With a bit of reluctance he released the hold on his magic. It swirled away, filling the room with a light breeze.

Shouting could still be heard, but it was muffled. Soon silence filled the air, Yao quickly glanced at the Orlesian woman beside him as the door to the tavern opened.

A blonde male waltzed in, his clothes slightly crumpled, most likely from whatever the commotion had been from outside. Yao watched him apprehensively, taking in how he seemed to glide towards them.

"Ma chérie," he purred to the barmaid, his gaze lingering on Yao for a second.

"The usual?" she asked lightly, her grin mischievous. He nodded and she turned to get his meal.

Another Orlesian.

Much to his discomfort the man sat beside him. Despite his best attempts he couldn't ignore him.

Yao turned, a tight smile on his face as he nodded to the man. Something felt off about him, there was a pressure in the room that hadn't been there before. It seemed that was all the invitation the man needed.

"Francis Bonnefoy, at your service," he bowed slightly.

"Yao Wang."

"Oh?" Francis smiled widely. "You're no Fereldener. Tell me," he leaned forward, effectively ridding any space between them, "was it the food that brought you here?" Yao smiled and he laughed.

If nothing else the man was confident, he would give him that.

"I'm here with some companions, one who just happens to be a Fereldener. He has quite the temper. Doesn't like that he has to have supervision, but you just can't leave certain people alone."

Yao smiled. Oh, he knew that feeling all too well. As soon as he would leave Ivan and Alfred they would be at each other's throats.

"Here you go."

Francis smiled, the Orlesian language slipping from his tongue as he chatted the woman up. It was at times like these that he wished he spoke Orlesian, it would make gathering information so much easier. Maybe when he returned to the Imperium he would practice.

The sound of flirtatious laughter brought his attention back to the two Orlesians. She motioned towards Yao, a light blush on her cheeks. "Do you know each other? He's here to meet the king as well."

There it was again… that pressure. Why was it so familiar? It felt like – _oh_. Slowly Yao met Francis gaze. "No, we haven't met before."

"How about a drink? For me and my friend here," Francis asked happily. Neither noticed her leave. "So, you are staying at the palace as well?"

Yao looked at him calmly. He had faced down Qunari, and not just the run-of-the-mill kind, he had faced their Arishok and their Saarebas. He was the one who had calmed Ivan down when they had found out the injuries to his sister were irreversible. Did this _Orlesian_ think that he could threaten him?

"I take it you're one of the Grey Wardens?"

"And you're the Tevinter mage we've heard so much about."

oOo

**Qunari**: Anyone who travels far enough to the north will eventually encounter the Qunari: White-haired, bronze-skinned giants, a head again taller than a man, with frighteningly calm demeanors and a sort of sparkling fire behind their eyes. All Qunari follow the Qun.

**The Qun**: The religion of the Qunari, though it is closer to a philosophy than a full-fledged religion. It governs every part of Qunari life, even the governing structure is dictated by it, and it gives every Qunari a defined and fixed place in their society, either as a soldier, as a craftsman or as a priest.

**Arishok**: A member of the ruling elite of the Qunari people, the name "Arishok" denoting his title and not his name. They are part of the soldier class.

**Saarebas**: Those born with magic are at a terrible disadvantage, for demons can always rob them of their self. Because of this, the Qunari name them Saarebas, meaning "dangerous thing", and treat them with the utmost caution. Extremely dangerous beings who are part of the soldier class

oOo

* * *

><p>an: Again, really sorry!


	9. You Don't Know Me

a/n: Thanks for the reviews, favorites, and alerts!

disclaimer: Hetalia-Axis Powers does not belong to me.

chapter 8: You Don't Know Me

* * *

><p>Ivan suspected that all these books on Elves must have come from Yao, he certainly had never cared much for Elvish history, at least not until now. The collection was extensive, he had hardly put a dent in it.<p>

If he wanted to know more about Alfred, what better place to gain an understanding about him than through his people's history? But it seemed as if all Elvish history revolved around war and enslavement. First by the Tevinter Imperium, and then by the Chantry in one of their Exalted Marches. It was obvious why Alfred was so distrustful of him.

Even among themselves there was friction. Two sets of elves with two different sets of mentalities. The city elves who had given up on fighting and lived in human cities, and the Dalish, who refused to give up what dignity their race had left, and lived nomadic lives throughout Thedas.

What was Alfred's opinion on city elves? Did he hate them just as these books claimed? He smiled, his eyes scanning the text lazily. No, he didn't believe that. Alfred wouldn't hate them, he didn't seem the type to hate his own people. Ivan was more than certain that if the elf felt anything for his disgraced brethren it was pity.

Erratic footsteps pulled him from his thoughts.

"Archon! S-sorry for the intrusion, but there's an urgent message from the Weisshaupt Fortress." Toris approached his desk quickly, his breathing heavy.

oOo

**Weisshaupt Fortress**: located in the Anderfels (once the western Imperium) it is the headquarters of the Grey Wardens. It was here that the order was founded in 890 TE during the First Blight. The fortress is run by the First Warden, who is head of all Grey Wardens.

oOo

Ivan raised a brow. That seal was indeed the seal of the Grey Warden order. What could they want with the Imperium? Their leader, Berwald, had always refused any interaction with them. Ivan reached out, taking the letter from trembling fingers.

"Heh," he smiled, his eyes darkening as he scanned over the perfectly written words. "Things are about to get interesting, Toris." He stood, the books on the elves forgotten in the wake of this new information. "Contact the armorer. I need that armor delivered by the end of this week."

Toris nodded, leaving the library in much the same fashion he had entered.

Ivan glanced down at the books and parchments, his smile broadening. Things were going to be interesting, both for him and Alfred.

* * *

><p>"I wasn't aware that my presence was the talk of the town," Yao responded back.<p>

Francis smiled gently, his body relaxed as he leaned back casually, his eyes never leaving Yao's. "Not often that you Tevinters leave your country for alliance talks."

"It would be a normal occurrence if countries weren't reluctant to meet."

Francis smile widened, and Yao felt himself becoming weary of what was to come. "I wouldn't mind humoring the Imperium as well, so long as they sent someone like you to me. But I am not the king, pretty or not, he will not be swayed by your looks."

"I wasn't expecting him to be swayed by anything less than my words," Yao responded annoyed. The empire wasn't on good standing with _any_ country. Yao had assumed that with Ivan in power the other countries would be more than willing to negotiate with the Imperium, but nothing had changed. Or so he had believed. King Basch had proven him wrong, and Yao aimed to prove that trust well placed. He just had to watch what he said. After all, words carried weight. This wasn't the Imperium, he wasn't sure how he was to act in this country. "Do you really think that the Archon would just send a random face to see the king?"

"Then who would he send?" Francis asked intrigued.

Were Tevinter politics truly not known outside of the Imperium? Yao laughed, how could he not? Everyone in the empire knew who he was. "If Orlais made it a point to meet with the Imperium, you would know who I am."

Francis looked at Yao skeptically. "Oh? Then who are you?"

"Someone to be feared."

* * *

><p>"Ah, sir, the armor you ordered should be here before noon." Ivan nodded, his gaze locked onto the sky. "Where would you like me to place it?" Toris asked tentatively. He had worked as Ivan's attendant long enough to know when he was in a bad mood. If the chill in the room wasn't a clear indication, then it was the eerie false smile that Ivan often wore when he was with the Magisters.<p>

He said nothing, his eyes following the birds in the sky. Toris watched on apprehensively. What had put the Archon in this mood? He felt Ivan's heavy gaze on him, and smiled nervously. "Place them in my room," he said, after some time.

Toris nodded. "Is that all, sir?"

Ivan nodded, his gaze once more returning to the sky.

He walked out of the room, anxious from the Archon's strangeness.

* * *

><p>Winter was nearly upon them.<p>

With narrow eyes, Ivan gazed at the western skies, the Weisshaupt Mountains still visible, despite already receiving winters loving embrace.

Winter.

It was both the Imperium's greatest ally and their worst enemy. It protected them at times of war, and devastated them at times of peace. Their twisted silver wolf of the north.

Not many could stand the season. Yao had detested living in Qarinus for that very reason.

Ivan, too, wasn't a fan. But it was an effective weapon.

He had always had a natural affinity for ice. How he had hated it. But his sister hadn't.

Natalia had always loved his ability to make it snow. How often would she plead with him to make it snow for her? Smiling so sweetly, so innocently, so lively – _No_. He turned away from the frost covered window. He couldn't think of Natalia, not now. This weather… how he hated this weather.

He growled lowly, the room growing cold.

Maybe winter itself knew? He smiled mirthlessly, of course it couldn't know. It wasn't alive, was it?

* * *

><p>He had laughed.<p>

Laughed.

Yao wasn't even sure what to do in that situation. Never had the Magisters laughed at his threats. Had they been in the Tevinter Imperium, Francis wouldn't have had the audacity to do so.

But he wasn't a fool.

Yao knew when he was being purposely provoked. His appearance always worked against him during political talks. Sure, he wasn't the strongest mage the Imperium had, but he could stand on his own. Besides he preferred mental fights to physical ones. If that Orlesian wanted a fight, he would have it. But it would be on Yao's terms.

He looked about the bustling market irritably. Where was Yong Soo? Why had he expected his brother to be on time?

"Maker," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Yong Soo's antics.

"Brother!"

Yao looked up, a strained smile adorning his face. Could he be any louder? Those nearby looked at the approaching Yong Soo curiously.

"Where hav—Unh!" Yao staggered back from the force of Yong Soo's hug. Yong Soo looked up at him, his eyes mischievous.

"I was beginning to think that you forgot about me, dear brother."

Yao resisted the urge to roll his eyes, damn it, he was the older brother. He couldn't do something so childish. "Like I could forget you."

"Why'd you call me?" he asked casually. Yao didn't roll his eyes, but he did feel his smile twitch. He pulled away from the hug irritably, and Yong Soo puffed his cheeks in annoyance.

Yao crossed his arms, glaring at the people who were watching them until they turned away, only then did he return his attention to Yong Soo. "You know perfectly well why I called you."

Yong Soo stepped back, running his hand through his hair absentmindedly. "I didn't know about the slavers. I'm not lying. You told me to keep an eye around the city. And I did." He looked at Yao fiercely. "You know I wouldn't let _you_ down."

Yong Soo was right.

When it came to dealing with his "dear older brother" Yong Soo would go beyond and above what was required. Which was why this situation was so damn confusing. Why hadn't Yong Soo checked the alienage?

Sighing Yao looked at him. There had to be a reason why he hadn't gone to the alienage. But what? "The alienage is part of the city, too, Yong Soo."

"Not an important part."

"... Yong Soo."

"They're elves!" he glared at the floor. "I didn't think it would matter."

He couldn't be serious. Hadn't Yong Soo learned anything from him? "Every race plays an important role. Even if you can't see it," he growled out.

Yong Soo flinched from his tone. He was scared? Good. He was not in any mood to entertain him.

"Yao –" Yong Soo began.

He shook his head. "Have you truly learned nothing from me?" He walked past Yong Soo, his amber eyes troubled. "I don't know where you sudden dislike for elves has come from, but look at what it has brought." He turned, his gaze hard on Yong Soo. "There is a slaver ring in the heart of Ferelden. An _illegal_ _slaver ring_ from the Tevinter Imperium. You could have helped prevent this situation, Yong Soo. Or at the very least helped with damage control."

How could this have happened? Yes, Yong Soo was very proud of his roots, but never before had he let it get in the way of his work. Hadn't he liked elves? "First that Grey Warden and now this."

"What Grey Warden?" Yong Soo asked cautiously.

"This Orlesian Warden from the alienage." He shook his head miserably. He really did not want to discuss how he had been mocked, especially to Yong Soo. He could do nothing about finding out late, but now that he knew the situation there was something he could do. After all, he excelled at damage control. "Yong Soo," He looked at Yao apprehensively, "I want you to gather as much information as you can on the slavers. Where are they hiding, who are they contacting, anything and everything on them, do you understand?"

"Wait," he looked at Yao surprised. "You trust me with this? Just me?"

"You're a good spy," he admitted. "But when this is over, you and me are going to have a serious discussion about elves."

He smiled so brightly that Yao couldn't help returning it. "You won't regret this, brother. I'll show you just how good my skills are!"

* * *

><p>Ivan had looked everywhere for the elf, and where did he finally find him? With Toris of all people.<p>

Irritable didn't even begin to express how he felt, but then Alfred had smiled, and Ivan couldn't help but find the sight breathtaking. He had stopped, not trusting himself. He hadn't seen the elf since Alfred had left his study, promising to deal with the demon on his own.

And now, now he yearned to reach out and touch that skin, to riel the elf to the point where he was a mess of emotions. Angry, yearning, crying, happy, he wanted to see them all.

How was it that the elf could pull such emotions from him, when no other had?

"Archon," Toris greeted, bowing respectively.

"Toris."

Ivan glanced at Alfred, only to find the elf purposefully avoiding his gaze, his body tense.

Toris watched their interaction awkwardly. "Is there anything you need, sir?" Ivan shook his head. He looked at Ivan nervously. "Then I'll be taking my leave then." He bowed to Ivan, and smiled weakly to Alfred, who looked severely put out by Toris' departure.

"You've been avoiding me," Ivan said at last. He closed the distance between them, his eyes dark as he gripped Alfred's jaw. "That upsets me."

Alfred glared at him, his eyes glinting with annoyance. How he had missed those eyes.

Releasing his hold he turned. "Come, there is much to discuss."

He opened his mouth, ready to argue against Ivan's command, but then thought better of it. Apprehensively he followed Ivan, walking side by side with him.

* * *

><p>Alfred entered the room last, not trusting whatever the hell it was that Ivan had planned. He had been doing such a good job of avoiding him, too.<p>

He sat down, looking at the desk before him with tight, thin lips. "So… what's up?"

Ivan simply smiled, the same infuriating smile he would always give him when he asked a stupid question. How he hated that smile. "How have you been?"

"Fine." He looked at Ivan crossly. "I don't need your help," he said icily, his eyes lingering on the surface of the desk once more.

"Come now," he looked at Alfred, amusement in his eyes. "Despite what you may think, I didn't bring you here for that."

Then why was he here?

"I have something for you," he announced, standing from his seat and walking toward his room. He turned back, and Alfred could see the damn glee in his eyes. He was expecting him to refuse.

Well, he wouldn't do what was expected of him, even if it meant doing what he didn't want to. He smiled as he approached Ivan. He could play this game too.

The room was much brighter than the last time he had been here. Books and parchment were scattered everywhere, even on the bed. Is this why he had been able to avoid Ivan so easily?

"Over here."

He walked across the room, his eyes glued to the objects on the table. "Is this…?"

"Yes." He could hear the smile in Ivan's voice. It was almost enough to ruin the moment. Almost.

Alfred reached out tentatively, his skin meeting tempered metal. It felt strong, sturdy. Now this, this would be able to withstand a hit from a Qunari.

"Put It on."

It wasn't a request, it was a demand. Even he could tell the difference. Begrudgingly he grabbed the armor. "Are you gonna get out?"

"Does it really matter? It's not as if I haven't seen you naked." He laughed, his eyes drawing all of Alfred's attention. Why couldn't he look away? "Fine. I'll wait in the study. Should you need help, you know where I am."

"Fucking bastard," he grumbled as he put on the chainmail. It was incredibly intricate, much higher quality than anything he had touched here in the palace. Just how much had Ivan spent on this? It wasn't just the chainmail, the whole set of armor was of unbelievable quality. Thick pieces of tempered leather laid beneath a slightly thinner charcoal leather shirt, it fit him perfectly. He buckled the sides, noticing that his arms were exposed. Slowly the rest of the armor went on, the shoulder guard covering much of his right arm. A small bronze chest plate hung on his upper torso tightly. That would take some getting used to. And what was with that fluffy _thing_?

Alfred lightly pulled at it. It was incredibly soft. Maybe it was for softening the blow? Finally he put on the last piece, the gauntlet. It had been the one piece of armor that had held his interest. It was perfect. He could easily use that one piece of armor in battle. The smith had clearly outdone himself, and so had Ivan. After all, he had come up with the design, hadn't he?

The only problem was his left arm. He had a thick glove of the same material as what lay beneath his shirt, but nothing was covering the exposed skin on his arm. The markings on his skin were on clear display for the world.

Anxiously he rubbed against the skin, shuddering at the feel of the cold metal on his skin. "This is seriously going to take a while to get used to."

He emerged from Ivan's room, very aware of the way Ivan's eyes seemed to roam over his body. "… It's not bad." He admitted.

Ivan nodded in agreeance. "It seems you're going to have to work on putting this on properly." Alfred raised a brow in confusion. Ivan approached him, a smirk on his face. "This is why I insisted that you should have let me stay in the room with you." He reached out, fastening the chest plate to the charcoal-leather shirt beneath it.

With narrowed eyes Alfred said, "I could have done that myself."

"Yes, you could have, but you didn't."

Alfred stayed silent while Ivan worked on fixing the finer points of his armor. "How has the demon been?" he asked casually, working on positioning the arm guard correctly.

"I thought you said you brought me here for this armor, not to discuss this."

The tips of Ivan's lips quirked up. He held onto the clasps of the armor, his gaze meeting Alfred's. "I did say that, didn't I?"

He pulled away from Alfred, his violet eyes rooting Alfred to the spot. "You should now that avoiding me accomplishes nothing. You seem to think that I have no self-control, you couldn't be any further from the truth." His violet eyes darkened. "If I didn't, things would be vastly different."

* * *

><p>This was <em>so<em> boring. But Yao had asked him to do this. _Him_. Not Leon or the others. He couldn't afford to slack-off this time.

Yong Soo gripped the roof of the building, his body tightly hugging the surface of the wooden roof. There was a legitimate reason he hadn't entered the alienage, not that he would tell his brother the truth. The alienage reminded him of his dear brother's current… infatuation. As if he didn't already have a hard enough time getting Yao's attention. Now he had competition with some elf he didn't even know.

Yong Soo would show _his_ brother that he was worth his attention.

The alienage was loud, but not as loud as it had once been. The streets were still filled with passerby's and homeless, but the number had definitely diminished.

There on the roof he could see a fair amount of the alienage. The vhenadahl stood proudly in the center of the alienage, offering protection to those seeking shelter from the elements. It was an awe-inspiring tree, but he had seen better in the Imperium.

oOo

**Vhenadahl**: Literally means "the Tree of the People". Each alienage has a vhenadahl, though not many elves living in alienages know what it stands for, as not many city elves know about their culture. With every passing generation what little that is known is forgotten. The tree stands as a symbol of Arlathan, the once great city of the elves.

oOo

"That looks interesting," he whispered to himself. A lone elf walking at this hour of night? He strained his eyes, but the action proved fruitless. He breathed deeply, his hold on the roof so tight that his knuckles turned white. There would be no helping it…

Yong Soo shivered as he pushed magic into his eyes, slowly he looked at the elf, surprised beyond belief when he found the lone man staring at him. There was no way he could see him, the distance was too great!

But the blond elf shook his head and continued walking. It didn't help that he paused in his walk as he peered at the building that Yong Soo was hiding on. Could this man be part of the slaver ring?

He watched the elf walk into a tavern nearby, no sooner had the door closed when he heard shouting and a mixture of what he was certain were Orlesian curses. What in the name of the Maker was going on in there?

Minutes passed before the door slammed open, and the same elf who entered marched out with another man.

Yong Soo grimaced as he heard the shouts. Nothing but insults and curses, all directed at his companion, who looked like he struggling simply to walk.

He pitied the man.

"Arthur – _Arthur_! You shouldn't be so mad..." the struggling man hiccupped. "Mon chéri, I was – was waiting for that mage."

"Shut-up!" The elf sighed. "Do you feel anything here? Maybe magic?"

_Shit_. How had that elf known he had used magic?

"Heh," the incapacitated man leaned heavily on the shorter male, his arms wrapping around the body supporting him. "I feel some magic here."

"You git!" he pushed the man angrily. "Next time I'm leaving you in that hovel!" He stormed away, leaving his companion staggering for a few seconds.

"Hé! Arthur, wait! That Tev- tevintor mage might have come!" he pleaded, as he stumbled after his companion.

Tevinter mage? Was this the Grey Warder who had angered his brother?

They weren't the slavers that his brother was interested in, but maybe this information would be just as valuable. One could never have too much information on their enemies. He would have to follow carefully though, after all, that blond had somehow known where he was by his use of magic.

* * *

><p>The day had been unusually hot. Alfred sat on the floor of the balcony, leaning back on his elbows he sighed. "This feels great."<p>

Nothing beat these cool breeze nights.

Slowly he opened his eyes, his gaze lingering on the sight before him. The gardens stood outstretched, even while cloaked by the shadow of the night it called out to him. But like hell if he was going to answer that call.

That place was no longer his haven.

Every shadow seemed to catch his attention, swiveling around him, enclosing him, until it was all he could see. He hated it.

And the gardens were the worst because it wasn't just the shadows, it was the lingering memory of that demon. Alfred grimaced, his throat constricting from the memory.

Quickly he reached out for the bottle of wine that he had swiped from the kitchen, taking a massive swig. At once his throat relaxed, the sweet nutty taste of hazelnuts and almonds calming him. It was warm, his chest was so _warm_. He closed his eyes, focusing on the warmth spreading throughout his body. It felt so good…

Just how potent was that wine?

Clumsily he stretched fully on the floor, his arms resting behind his head. Who would have guessed that the library was an alright place? It was large enough for him to hide in, and hardly anybody entered the place, which honestly wasn't that surprising. Who the hell would want to come here? Creators, he wouldn't be here as well if it wasn't for the discovery he had made earlier in the day.

The view from the balcony was stunning. Everything from the gardens to parts of Minrathous could be seen from there, including the sky.

The moon had never seemed closer to him than it did at this moment.

He half sat-up, his mouth slightly parted as he raised the bottle to his lips, stopping just as the liquid touched his skin.

"Hmn?" Slowly Alfred looked back at the shelves of tomes and parchments behind him. Had he imagined that? With strained eyes he peered into the darkness, the bottle clinking loudly as he placed it down harder than he intended to.

There it was again, footsteps. Who the hell was still awake at this hour? It couldn't be Yao, he still hadn't returned from, from... he rubbed his face tiredly. That country. Ferelden, yes that was what it was called. Ferelden, how could he have forgotten? And Toris never stayed up this late. It couldn't be…

The steps were heavy, and while he hadn't heard them as often as he once had there was simply no way he could forget them.

Turning back to the open sky he resigned himself to his fate.

"What?" he asked sullenly.

"I'm surprised to see you here," Ivan replied humorously. "I wasn't even aware you liked books."

The Gods hated him.

"Ha, ha, ha, very funny." He gripped the bottle of wine tightly, refusing to even look at Ivan. He could feel his heavy gaze on him, burning his already too warm skin.

He took another drink from the bottle as Ivan sat next to him. It hadn't been an invitation for Ivan to join him there on the floor, but he didn't feel like fighting. At least not at the moment.

It was _hot_.

Why was he so hot? The clothes he was wearing were so thin that he should have been cold. The buttons refused to be undone, and it took all of his concentration to simply unbutton the first one. It was just too much effort.

He felt Ivan turn away from him and he half wanted to turn and stare, just to see how _he_ would like being stared at. But that was childish.

He shook his head, the world spinning more than it should have.

Peering up into the dotted sky Alfred couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. "She's pretty."

"She?" he heard whispered icily.

"Yeah, she," he said annoyed, motioning towards the sky. He saw Ivan's gaze leave him, looking to what it was he was pointing to.

"The moon is a woman?"

"The moon is a goddess."

He caught the confused look and grinned. Or at least he hoped he grinned.

Laughing he lifted the bottle to his lips, the sweet nectar falling from his mouth, trickling down from his chin, to his neck.

He knew something that Ivan didn't. How great was that?

"You humans have your…" he moved his hand wildly, a look of deep concentration written across his face, "your Maker. We Dalish have our own gods. And she," he pointed towards the luminescent ball in the sky, "is Mythal."

"Oh? And what is she responsible for?"

Was Ivan humoring him? It was too hard to tell.

Shrugging he turned back to the moon. "She protects us." Alfred furrowed his brow in thought. "Mythal made the moon as a counterpart to her husband, Elgar'nan. It was she who calmed him down and showed him that his anger had led him astray."

"And what is he the god of?"

"Vengeance."

Ivan moved closer. "I take it that the sun symbolizes him?"

Alfred nodded. "They're the two main gods, the others all listen and follow their orders, or at least they were all supposed to. Have you heard of Arlathan?"

Ivan nodded. "The ancient elf city."

"It was more than just that. It was the heart of the Elvan empire. Arlathan fell because the Creators were betrayed by one of their own. They were abandoned, and in turn they abandoned us. With Arlathan's destruction, we were stripped of everything." Alfred laughed bitterly. "We still are."

Neither said a word, the silence broken when Ivan spoke. "Then why revere the moon, if she isn't there?"

Why? Because it felt like she was _still_ there. That feeling of protection was there, even if she wasn't. With glossy eyes he looked at Ivan. "Your Maker turned his back on you as well."

Ivan stayed silent, and with a smile Alfred turned away. Or he tried to, anyway.

Before he knew it lips were touching his own, the smell of rocks after rainfall and mint clouding his judgment.

It took a moment for his mind to catch up with his body. What the hell? He pushed against Ivan, panic rising in him as his strength was equally matched against him.

Acting on instinct his hand plunged into Ivan's chest. He shivered. Fuck, that was cold.

Ivan pulled away from the kiss, his eyes on the hand that was inside his chest. He glanced up, his violet eyes glowing with ill-intent as he and Alfred stared one another down. "I'm not sure if you don't fear me, or if you're just stupid." Alfred glared at him. "You won't do it."

"Are you sure?"

Ivan smiled, he moved forward, impaling himself further onto Alfred's translucent hand. "It's not in your character to do so."

"How would you know?" he asked angrily. "You don't know anything about me." He had killed. Murdered in the name of Sadik. Ivan had no idea what he was capable of… hell, _he_ wasn't sure what he was capable of.

If he really wanted to, he could kill him. It would be so simple. He already had his hand in his chest, all he had to do was solidify – What the hell was he thinking? This was dangerous. Clumsily he pulled his hand out, shivering from the change in temperature.

He caught Ivan's gaze, the look on his face angering him beyond belief. "Tch, whatever. I'm outta here."

He stood, his legs shaking beneath him. Creators, he was the drunkest person in the history of drunkards. He swayed as he walked, stumbling on bumps that only he could see.

Ivan laughed. "Alfred," he called out gently.

He stopped, but he refused to turn. Not only because Ivan was an ass, but because he was sure that he'd stumble and fall if he tried.

"I can be your moon, if you wish it."

* * *

><p>an: Hope you enjoyed the chapter! If you have any question I'm more than happy to answer them.


	10. No Light, No Light

a/n: Hey guys! Sorry for the late update. School started up again last month, so updates may take me a bit longer. I realized yesterday while editing this chapter that it's been one year since I've begun working on this story. It's actually a pretty surreal feeling. I just wanted to take this chance to thank every single one of you for sticking with me for so long! Thanks you guys!

Disclaimer: Hetalia-Axis Powers and Dragon age do not belong to me.

Chapter 9: No Light, No light

* * *

><p>The gardens were silent, something that Alfred knew he should be used to, but he wasn't. He licked his lips nervously, his eyes looking about the foliage, as if the demon was just going to hide in plain view. This was stupid, he knew it was, but he couldn't help his nervousness.<p>

It wasn't so much that he was scared of the demon, because he wasn't, no, it was that he couldn't keep from remembering that dream.

Alfred rubbed his face angrily, a muttered "fuck" leaving his lips.

He had left the palace to go train, but it seemed that his thoughts just wouldn't let him rest. Alfred griped the hilt of the blade at his waist, his breathing evening out as he calmed himself.

It was all in his head. The demon wasn't here. Slowly he walked towards the training grounds, his sky-blue eyes firmly on the path before him, the blade at his hip bouncing against him with every step.

Had Alfred looked, truly looked, he may have seen how the shadows nearly danced at his approach, and how they had nearly swallowed him whole as he stood there, lost in his own thoughts.

* * *

><p>Elizabeta brushed the sweat from her brow, her eyes glazed as she grabbed the long sword once more. She leaned forward, a few strands of chestnut-brown hair falling forward as she did so. She struck down – the air slicing from the attack – and smiled. She hadn't done this in quite some time. With Roderich gone there was no need for her to train.<p>

… At least that's what she had told herself. But the fact of the matter was very different. Training with her sword reminded her too much of Roderich. She had been a warrior before him, fought battles for no one but herself. But then change had come, and it had come so subtly, too. When had Roderich's battles become her own?

"Hah!"

She lunged forward, the imaginary beast before her impaled by her blade.

Before him she had trained for herself, fought for herself, became a better warrior for herself. With him everything had changed. She trained and battled for him.

Having Roderich leave was for the best, but it had showed her just how weak she was. She hadn't been able to protect him. What good were her skills if she couldn't protect him from a _single_ demon? Elizabeta growled lowly as she once more began to swing the blade in short arcs, right then left.

Roderich had been saved. She could not deny that he hadn't been plagued by demons since he had become the Divine, but what of Alfred?

oOo

**Divine**: The leader of the Chantry organization at large, based out of the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux. The Divine of the Chantry is always female. The Tevinter Imperium however, have their own Divine, who is a male as well as their own version of the Chantry—the Imperial Chantry. The Orlesian Divine is informally known as the White Divine, and the Tevinter Divine as the Black Divine.

oOo

He wouldn't tell any of them of the demon that was haunting him, but she was sure – more than sure— that it was the same demon.

She twirled the blade, almost as if in a dance with the weapon.

It took her a few minutes to realize that someone was watching her. She stopped, her eyes strained as she tried making out the person.

"Hey," came the familiar voice.

She smiled, her gaze light, as she re-sheathed her blade. What were the odds? "What brings you out here?"

Alfred walked towards her, a slight scowl on his face. "Training." Elizabeta looked at him dubiously. "Don't tell Ivan," he added reluctantly.

She laughed. "I should have guessed."

Alfred tried glaring at her, but the affect was lost with the cheeky grin plastered on his face. "I didn't know you could use a sword."

She nodded. "I wasn't always a healer." She looked down at her sword, a fond smile gracing her face. "My family was known for their prowess in battle, not their healing abilities."

He looked at her, his eyes just as bright as daylight. She looked away, her own eyes hurting from looking into those too bright orbs. Had they always been so bright?

"Then why'd you get into healing?"

Why? Why not?

"It came easily to me," she extended her arm, her palm face-up. Slowly small tendrils of green appeared, swelling about the air, slowly encompassing her arm. "See? I think I'm a better healer than a warrior."

She saw the look of disgust on Alfred's face at her display of magic. It would seem the natural response. After all, Sadik had been Alfred's former master. If she were in his place she was sure that she would be just as apprehensive of magic as Alfred was.

But Alfred was a mage himself... At some point he was going to have to come to terms with the role magic would play in his life.

"You didn't look too bad holding that sword." Alfred looked at her with a genuine smile. "Maybe you should consider taking up the sword again."

"I've thought about it," she admitted. Thoughts of once more fighting had kept her up on more than one occasion, but as always she would dismiss it. "But what would be the point?"

Fighting again would not bring her closer to Roderich.

She looked at Alfred, green meeting blue. "You remember that friend I was telling you about?"

Alfred nodded.

"I was a fighter long before I met Roderich, but it was only after I met him that I began fighting even more. He wasn't much of a fighter." She smiled, her gaze distant. "He was horrible at it. Just the worst. He would always be covered in bruises and scrapes, I was always healing him."

Alfred looked at her curiously. "You must really miss him."

"Yes, I do."

"Is that why you're a healer? Because he left?"

"No," she shook her head, that wasn't the reason at all. "When I wasn't protecting him, I was healing him. When he left it felt like the natural thing to do. I enjoy healing people. Roderich helped me to realize that."

Healing had brought her some closure, but not nearly as much as she would have liked. When he had left, she hadn't been ready for his words. Maker, she wasn't ready for them now.

"So," Elizabeta looked up, noting the hesitant tone in Alfred's voice. "How'd he get rid of it?"

"Of what?"

"The demon."

She looked at him critically. If she was right about the demon then she would have to tread carefully. "The Imperial Chantry made a deal with him." She crossed her arms. She hadn't been thrilled when Roderich had taken the offer. "It was a risky ritual. If it was successful he would become the Divine, if it wasn't, well, he wouldn't need to worry about the demon or anything else for that matter."

She watched carefully as Alfred nodded, his face impassive as he took in the information. Why was he so unwilling to tell them anything about the demon?

It wasn't like she could force him to tell her. If Alfred refused to even tell the Archon, her chances weren't any better.

"How have you been?" she asked suddenly.

Alfred looked at her uneasily. "Fine."

Who was he trying to fool?

"And the demon?" she asked casually, not missing the way his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Hasn't bothered me since Ivan came back."

"Is that so?"

Just how had the Archon managed to get the demon to leave? From what Toris had told her, it seemed that whatever the Archon had done was nothing but a temporary solution. She doubted that Alfred would tell her, much less the Archon himself.

* * *

><p>How late was it? Alfred sighed. He needed to go to sleep soon, before the tall-tale signs of staying up became apparent on his face. He didn't need the healer on his case again.<p>

His gaze once more landed on the inky sky, nearly devoid of any form of light, the moon a sliver of its former glory. Soon even the stars themselves would refuse to show themselves without the moon there to protect them.

_I could be your moon._

"Heh," Alfred ran his hand through his hair, "Why did I think of _that_?"

He must have been more tired than he thought if he was thinking of Ivan of all people. As if he needed protection. "I can protect myself."

Softly he traced the lyrium markings on his skin, the smile on his lips slowly disappearing. He could have killed Ivan. Creators, he had come so **close** to doing it.

He'd only taken up drinking because it made the dreams go away. If he couldn't dream, then the demon couldn't bother him. Isn't that what Ivan had said? The only way demons could bother you in your sleep was when you dreamed, and if he couldn't dream, then the demon couldn't get him.

… It couldn't do _that_ again. He shivered at the memory.

It scared him more than he cared to admit. How easily he had gotten used to the feeling of ending someone's life. It had been terrifying at first, to some extent it still was, but before he knew it, he would do the deed with no qualms. None whatsoever. It seemed that alcohol did nothing to hide that part of himself.

With slightly shaky fingers Alfred gripped the bottle beside him. It helped stop the dreams, but it made him even more reckless.

It wasn't the safest way, but like hell if he was going to ask Ivan for help. This was his problem, he didn't need anyone else getting involved. Especially if their help was like anything Ivan was offering.

Alfred fell back, his back hitting the ground softly. Who would have guessed that the rug in the library was this soft? "Man, I'm tired…"

Loosening his cloak he sighed. The air felt so nice.

Slowly his eyes closed, opening seconds later to the flickering lights of the torches. Would it be alright to sleep here?

Something, _anything_, could get him. But he was too tired to care.

He closed his eyes gently, the hum of the torches burning something of a lullaby to him. Just as sleep claimed him, the stench of a wick burning out filled the air, Alfred wrinkled his nose in distaste, his bright blue eyes opening for just a second before once more closing.

Only to open once more.

Alfred rolled to his side, the momentum propelling him to his feet, the markings on his skin lighting the room in luminescent blue.

But nothing was there.

Nothing.

He looked about the room, his glossy blue eyes strained as he struggled to make the world clear. He spun around, his body ready to pounce, yet there was no demon.

… Had he imagined it?

Alfred looked down at the bottle beside him. "It was the alcohol." But even as he said it, his eyes betrayed him. Even he didn't believe himself.

"You guys sure worry a lot." Alfred smiled brightly. "I'm fine."

"Still, I want you to come by the infirmary later, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, got it."

Elizabeta looked at him uncertainly, her eyes scanning him for something. Creators, it was unnerving. She nodded, satisfied with whatever it was she saw. "Then I'll be waiting, come over after dinner."

He nodded, smile still in place until she left. Only then did he drop the act. The truth was that he _was_ tired. But he couldn't sleep.

The demon was there.

Every time Alfred closed his eyes he could feel it, hiding somewhere in the shadows. Just watching him.

* * *

><p>"Why don't you take a break?" The words left Ivan's mouth before he truly thought them out. It seemed that was usually the case when it came to the elf.<p>

Those blue eyes looked at him, annoyance visible in their depths. "I was going to anyway," he huffed out. Alfred sat on the floor with a thud, his back resting heavily on the wall.

He was a mess. Even from where Ivan stood he could smell him, a mix of that overly sweet wine and sweat. The armor that he had given Alfred lay on the floor, thrown haphazardly around the training grounds. The only garments left on his body a thin shirt and pants.

But surely the elf wasn't too out of sorts if the dirty glares he was shooting him were any indication. If Alfred had the energy to still be annoyed by him, than he wouldn't intervene.

"Are you prepared to work with the Wardens?" he asked, his violet gaze on the rise and fall of Alfred's chest.

"Yeah," Alfred raised his hand, wiping sweat from his brow, "though I'm surprised you're willing to work with them. Didn't they break away from the Imperium?" he asked scathingly.

"Yes, they did break away, didn't they?" he approached Alfred, stopping to pick up the massive blade bedside the elf. "You know the business with the Qunari, yes?"

"Yeah," Alfred asked, confusion laced in his voice. "What about them?"

Ivan gripped the hilt of the blade tightly. "The only reason I have not reclaimed what was the former Imperium is because of this war." He felt Alfred eyeing him and smiled. "The other nations are fools. They think this war is not theirs. That the threat the Qunari represent is exaggerated." His eyes darkened dangerously. "To them the Qunari are nothing more than tales to scare their children with."

He smiled gently. "But the Wardens are no fools. They know a threat when they see one. If they wish assistance in this problem, why would I deny them?" He gripped the blade tightly, plunging the blade into the earth in one thrust. "If it wasn't for the Qunari, Thedas would be united under the Tevinter Imperium once more."

"Wow, dude, you've got problems." Alfred looked at Ivan with a knowing gaze. "So you're only helping them out because it works in your favor? Leave it up to a mage to only think in their self-interest."

"You," he pointed at Alfred happily, "are a mage."

Alfred looked at him severely, his very being radiating with hatred.

Ivan raised a brow at the display. Did the elf still believe himself to be anything but a mage? That was a very dangerous belief to hold tightly.

"Self-interest has nothing to do with being a mage. If it helps me out as well, why should I refuse? They don't know how to fight the Qunari. Why not ask for help from those who do?"

"And you do?" It was supposed to sound mocking, but the tone was off.

Ivan looked at Alfred, suddenly more aware of just how off the elf looked.

Alfred's head rested on his raised knees, his grip on his legs tight. Disheveled, sweaty hair clung to his face. What skin that was visible to Ivan looked clammy and pale, making the lyrium markings on his skin more prominent.

What was wrong with him? He had never seen the elf look like this before. Was the demon having a greater effect on Alfred than he had expected? … Or was this the effect of all the alcohol that Alfred had been consuming?

Alfred raised his head slightly, his eyes exposed enough for Ivan to see.

Those eyes… he clenched his hands unconsciously. They looked passed him, glazed and distant. That look. Ivan turned away. He had seen those same lifeless eyes on _her_.

"Is that all?" He turned back to Alfred, relieved to see those exuberant blue eyes back, life radiating through those orbs. "I'm sort of tired, so…"

"Yes, that's it for now."

Alfred nodded, he looked down at the sword before his gaze fell back to Ivan. Easily he pulled the blade, clumps of soil pulled along with it. Alfred turned without a single word, the hefty blade resting against his shoulder.

Ivan watched him walk away. A foreign ache coursing through his body with every step the wheat-blond took.

* * *

><p>What the hell? What had he done to piss-off Ivan this time? Not that he would take back whatever it was he had done. Clearly it had been worth it.<p>

… Or at least he hoped it was.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? He didn't have a problem. All that wine wasn't because he had a _drinking_ problem. It helped him get drunk enough so he didn't dream. If he couldn't dream, then he couldn't enter the Fade, and if he couldn't enter the Fade, then the demon couldn't get him. Didn't they understand that?

oOo

**Fade**: Known by the Dalish as the Beyond, is a metaphysical realm that is part of Thedas yet separated by the Veil. Every living being, with the exception of dwarves, enters the Fade mentally when they dream and mages tap into it when they cast spells. Most people do not remember their time in the Fade, but mages are forced to recall. Killing a mortal dreaming in the Fade is a shock to their living bodies, but not lethal. The person merely wakes up. Demons and spirits reside in the Fade.

**The Veil**: A metaphysical barrier between the mortal realm and the Fade. Neither spirits nor mortal beings can easily pass physically through the Veil, but the consciousness of mortal dreamers easily does so. The Veil is not an object; it cannot be touched or seen. It is a metaphor used by mortal scholars to explain the interactions between the two different realities.

oOo

He had tried explaining that to Toris, but he had pretty much just said his hands were tied. There wasn't anything he or anyone else could do. Apparently Ivan had instructed all the servants to refuse him any alcohol. "Bastard."

He stood angrily, his hand reaching out for his cloak. If he couldn't sleep then he'd train. At least then he would have something to do.

Alfred walked across the halls, all too aware of the silence in the palace. No sooner had he entered the gardens when, much to his shame, his unease became all too apparent.

His sky-blue eyes couldn't help but rove over the foliage. His throat constricted with each step he took, but still he continued.

Out of habit he looked up into the cosmos, darkness greeting him. "The moons out…" he whispered to himself. All too suddenly he remembered Ivan's words. Angrily he bit his lip. He didn't need Mythal's protection, just like he didn't need Ivan's.

Dammit, he wasn't weak!

By the time Alfred had reached the training grounds he was far more observant of the shadows, of the complete and total silence that seemed to have spread from the palace to the gardens, and even there in the training grounds.

He bit his lip anxiously. Had he made the right choice? Maybe he would have been better off in the palace? No, this was stupid. It didn't matter where he was, the demon would be there regardless. Watching him. What good would worrying about it do?

He didn't want to think about the demon. Of those _things_ entering his body. Alfred felt his throat constrict, but he couldn't stop from thinking of it. He gaged at the memory of the demon's appendages in his lungs, the feel of the demon burrowing into his veins, his— _his_!

Alfred gasped, his hands clawing frantically at his throat. He couldn't breathe. Desperately he attacked his throat, red, angry welts forming after every blow he inflicted upon himself.

It was all in his head. These feelings weren't real, the demon wasn't there. He kept telling himself that, but his body refused to listen.

He fell to the floor, his strangled gasps for air reverberating through the training grounds. His fear, his self-doubt over everything overcoming his rationality.

Minutes passed before Alfred calmed himself. His ragged pants filled the area as he hungrily breathed. Slowly he opened his eyes, his vision blurred by the tears that had managed to escape. His throat felt raw.

"Wh-what," he gasped out, "the fuck?"

Tentatively he touched his throat, angry welts met his touch, many still oozing blood. Alfred pulled his hand back numbly, still shocked by what had happened.

Before he could even gain his bearings he felt it. The hairs on the back of his neck standing up. "Not now…" he muttered.

Apprehensively he looked up, suddenly hyper-aware of the intense feeling of being watched. The air was still and acrid, filling him with a growing sense of dread that he seemed incapable of fighting. Hadn't the air at the Silent Plains felt the same? Stale and old, as if time itself had stopped. He licked his lips nervously as he stood on weak legs.

It was with a slowly dawning horror that he realized that the shadows were growing. Swirling around the training grounds, no, swirling around _him_. Alfred unsheathed his blade, his mind drawing a blank at what to do, but his body acting on sheer instinct.

What now?

He breathed heavily, each breath shorter and sharper than the last. The shadows loomed over the land, moving viscously over everything, nothing was safe from it. Slowly, very slowly, it swallowed the torches along the walls. One by one they fell, the darkness left behind no different than the shadows that had swallowed it.

Alfred looked around, but still the shadows were all that greeted him. "Fuck you," he said steely.

He swallowed nervously, his scared neck a reminder of what giving in to his fear could do. He could do this.

He **had** to.

"Fly straight and do not waiver." Alfred gripped the hilt tightly, slight tremors still visible on the blade. "Bend but do not break." He was scared. Who wouldn't be? But he would not run. That's what the demon wanted, right? He nodded to himself. Yes, it was.

It was maddening, the beating of his heart. He could hear it so clearly, so _loudly_. Alfred cursed lowly. Could the demon hear it, too?

Fear was nothing to be ashamed of. Only **defeat** was. Fear had molded him. Fear of punishment kept him focused, kept him guarded, kept him alive.

The familiar smell of a burnt-out wick filled the air. Only two torches remained.

Alfred leaned forward slightly, his knuckles white as he held his blade, ready to strike. He could feel each drop of sweat. It was nerve-wracking, watching that last torch.

The flame danced carelessly, unaware of its fate. Hues of orange and red waltzed with one another, their dance the only source of light. With one last twirl the dance finished, and only darkness remained.

Alfred held his breath, his body ready to fight or defend. The lyrium markings lit up, but he saw nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Why was nothing happening? What was this fucking demon planning? Should – he swung the blade, but it met nothing but air.

Alfred looked at the space before him confused. "… What?" Something had touched him. He could still feel the slimy mark it had left behind on his neck. But where the hell had it gone?

Alfred swore as he broke into a cold sweat. He couldn't even tell where the hell it was coming from. It seemed as if the shadows themselves were watching him, judging him, mocking him.

How could he protect himself if he couldn't even see his opponent? Nothing was here but shadows, and he couldn't hurt something that wasn't alive… or was it?

"Show yourself!" he shouted, a poisonous fear coursing through his veins. Now that the thought was there he couldn't rid himself of it. What of the shadows were alive? How the hell was he supposed to hurt it? Could he even win? Alfred peered into the void, his eyes dilated.

Nothing.

Why was it doing this? Why did it want _him_? What had he done that was so remarkable that people wanted him? Sadik, Ivan, what had they seen in him? Was it these stupid brandings? Did the demon want them too?

The shadows inched towards him, agonizingly slow. Alfred swiped at them and cursed. "Ugh, let go!" But the shadows refused to relent. They pulled the blade from him, swallowing it into its very being. It disappeared without so much as a thud, leaving Alfred with no other weapon besides his hands.

Blue eyes darted around the darkness, but the faceless demon wasn't there. The darkness swirled about him, wrapping around his legs. "S-shit!"

Alfred jumped back, but still the shadows clung. He phased his hand, plunging it into the darkness. The shadows writhed about his arm, sucking and pulling him forward.

It was _alive_.

When he thought he had been touched, he had been. Theses shadows… they felt like the demon's appendages. And there he was, without a blade, left only with a useless body. A body that the demon wanted.

"Let go!" He pulled back against the shadows, feeling his muscles constrict painfully, his shoulder felt like it was going to pop, but that wasn't enough to make him stop. The demon's appendages pulled harder, throwing Alfred to his knees, only then did the realization hit him: he was screwed.

They clung to him, not just his arm but his legs and knees as well, and with every desperate struggle to break free they only clung tighter, digging into his skin, into the lyrium as well.

"Ahh…!" He bit his lip hard, the scream caught in his throat. He couldn't _move_. Everything the shadow like appendages touched felt heavy and useless.

He only had one arm free, but what good was that? He couldn't phase through this, he couldn't kill it. What could he do? "Dammit!"

The demon would take his body…

Alfred griped his chest tightly. His heart _burned_. He gasped, his eyes shut tight.

"Fuck you…"he sobbed, tears bitterly falling. "Fuck you! You won't fucking win! Do you hear me?" Alfred fell into himself, the searing heat spreading from his heart to his lungs.

… He didn't want to die.

Heat coursed through his veins, thick and hot. Alfred clenched his eyes in pain, his hand clutching desperately at his chest. Still the shadows clung to Alfred, pulling his limbs, breaking skin, sinew, and muscle to meld with the bone below. Not even the lyrium on his flesh escaped their attention. They dug around the metal, wrapping about each tendril. Alfred choked on his saliva, a hoarse scream escaping his lips.

He lashed out blindly, only for his arm to be seized and swallowed by the darkness.

"Hah… ha…" Alfred looked at the void before him, tears blurred his vision, but the darkness remained unchanged. "Fu-uck you… I – _Ah_!" He bent his head. "_Ngh_! I won't – won't _break_…"

But what could he do?

Nothing.

There was absolutely nothing he could do. "No… _no_!" Alfred struggled, his joints and muscles protesting every push. "The Dalish will not surrender, never again!" Alfred struggled, but each push only encouraged the demonic appendages, they moved slowly, lingering over his skin before piercing the flesh.

"Ugh!"

Alfred looked down and a chill passed his heart. The shadows were slowly consuming his body… Even if he fought, there wasn't much he could do, his arms, his legs, these stupid lyrium marks, all of it was useless.

This was not a fight that he could win.

His heart thrummed like a war drum, fueling him to fight or run. Run. He wanted to run. He couldn't win. Alfred pulled his arms to no avail. Run. "Let me go!" Sweat dripped into his eyes, his glasses hanging askew. He could feel the mockery of the demon. Watching him. Laughing at him. Run.

But he couldn't.

It was a maddening feeling. Alfred could not run away. Every time the shadows on his body moved, he felt it. Each time it pierced his skin, he felt it. His own heart burned his flesh, his veins, and slowly the burning heat traveled to his lungs.

He closed his eyes, thrashing against the shadows. It hurt, but he'd be damned if he didn't go down without a struggle.

The searing heat traveled throughout his body, painful grunts escaping his lips. Alfred's vision blurred, the heat nearly unbearable. He struggled for each breath, raspy pants leaving his lips as he fought for each gasp of blissful air.

"Hah…" Alfred closed his eyes, the heat too much. He could hardly think. A sharp gasped left his lips, his eyes scrunched tightly as his heart burned, and soon his whole body burned along with every thump of his heart. Heat coursed through his veins, through every organ in his body. Alfred coughed roughly, a mix of saliva and blood falling from his lips. It was _hot_ as it dribbled from his lips, a slow trail forming down his chin.

He fell more into himself, head downcast and shoulders slumped, as he fought to breathe. It burned, his fingertips, his tongue, and his eyes.

And yet through it all he could feel the demon watching him.

Tears fell, uncontrollable sobs wracking his body. Even his tears were hot. In a haze of sheer panic he struggled against the darkness. It was too much, the pain, the heat.

Blue eyes snapped open, mouth agape in a silent scream as his heart burned. Like an uncontrollable tsunami, fire spread through Alfred's veins, muscles and tendons twitching from the intensity of the heat. Flame spewed out from his fingertips, his skin a luminescent red, as steam emanated from his body.

Fragments of blue, orange, and red filled the void, encircling Alfred in a fiery embrace that threatened to not only consume the demon's appendage, but himself as well.

The shadows hissed as the smell of acrid oil filled the air. They dripped off of Alfred's body like ink, reluctantly they relinquished their hold on his body. Slow streams of blood leaked from the wounds that the shadows had inflicted, pooling and mixing with the inky residue that had once been the darkness.

Alfred breathed erratically, falling onto his bent legs. A black pool lay beneath him and around the training grounds. Numbly he reached out to it but nothing happened. It didn't latch onto him, nor did it try to pierce his flesh. To anyone one else it would look like someone had simply had an accident transporting ink, but Alfred knew better. That was no simple ink spill.

Slowly, and with a bit of difficulty, Alfred rubbed his eyes. They still burned.

"Fuck…"

What more could he say? He hadn't expected this. The demon had never tried any of this before. Any attack that had taken place had always been in the Fade, in his dreams. Alfred cursed to himself. He should have expected this. Or at least prepared for it.

His body ached, he could barely raise his arms, and he was more than certain that his legs would buckle beneath him. But like hell if he was going to _sit_ in what was left of the shadows that the demon had sent. Slowly Alfred stood, his legs wobbling beneath him, his knees feeling as if they would give way at any second.

Alfred laughed as he fell, the noise mirthless and growing as he forced his body to get up and try again.

He licked his lips out of habit, his eyes dark as he eyed his hands. "Magic," the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. Magic had saved him. It filled him with a despair he hadn't been prepared for. He was alive, yes, but he had lived by using magic. If his body hadn't reacted, what would have happened? He looked away from his hand, feeling his stomach tighten at the thought.

Anxiously he rubbed his hands, the full realization of what had just occurred truly hitting him. He was no mage, that his body had reacted by using magic in times of crisis had always angered him, yet… it had saved him, hadn't? What if next time there was no time for that reaction? What if the demon simply came and took him? Incased him in that same suffocating darkness, and simply left with him? What then? Would magic save him when he was clearly already damned? Could he save himself without it?

He stumbled as he walked, nearly slipping on what remained of the demon's tentacle like limbs.

* * *

><p>"How is he?"<p>

"Huh?" Elizabeta looked at him surprised. Had she not expected him to check in on the elf so early? "Oh," she stood and bowed. "He hasn't spoken a single coherent sentence since you called for me. His fever is still quite high, too." Ivan nodded, noticing the intense look on Elizabeta's face, Yao had often wore that similar expression when he was healing Alfred's eyes. "There's a salve for fevers, but it's going to take a few days to make."

He nodded, his gaze resting on the door.

"Are you going to stay with him?" she asked tentatively. Ivan smiled lightly, it seemed as if everyone was unsure of how to approach him about Alfred's sudden illness.

He nodded, his violet gaze meeting Elizabeta's head on. "I'm planning on staying with him all day. Let Toris know to leave my meal in the study."

She nodded, and Ivan watched as she walked away, the door to his study closing quietly.

Ivan opened the door to his chambers calmly, but the moment his gaze landed on the elf on his bed he could hardly restrain his emotions.

He had seen how the elf had fared on his own. It was laughable. Or it should have been. Maker, had that been anyone else he wouldn't have cared.

Ivan walked towards the bed, the springs creaking as he sat, his gaze heavy as he watched Alfred sleep. "I said I would intervene, didn't I?" he asked the sleeping male. The only answer to his question Alfred's labored breathes. Ivan moved closer, his hand gently brushing the sweat laden hair from Alfred's brow.

He hadn't planned on going out to the training grounds, but the sheer presence of the Fade drew him from the palace. He had expected blood mages, and instead he found Alfred.

He should have done something, but he had wanted to see what Alfred would do. He had after all claimed that he was more than capable of handling the situation. But it turned out that Alfred had fared just as he had expected. The elf hadn't even made it out of the training grounds before he collapsed.

oOo

**Blood mage**: Originally learned from demons, these dark rites tap into the power of blood, converting life into mana and giving the mage command over the minds of others. Such power comes with a price, though; a blood mage must sacrifice his/her own health, or the health of allies, to fuel these abilities

oOo

"You Dalish are far too prideful," Ivan whispered darkly, his fingers tracing the various scars on Alfred's neck. For all of Alfred's arguments that magic was evil, he certainly did rely upon it. Magic wasn't inherently evil, it depended on the mage. After all, hadn't magic brought back Alfred's sight? Surely that action should have changed the elf's opinion.

Ivan's fingers gingerly latched onto Alfred's skin, green light swirling from his fingers into Alfred's neck. Gradually the scars disappeared, until only tanned flesh and lyrium remained. He wasn't a particularly skilled healer, but even he could do at least this much.

He pulled away from the elf, his eyes all but glued to the sleeping male. He couldn't help but be captivated by each little motion, it didn't matter if it was watching Alfred breath or the slight twitch of his fingers.

"Even when you're battered like this," Ivan leaned forward, his gaze heavy as he eyed Alfred's lips, "I still find you so alluring." Alfred shifted lightly, a low murmur leaving his parted lips. Ivan stopped, his gaze flicking towards Alfred's own eyes, finding two blank, dark orbs staring into nothing.

No light.

"Alfred…" he whispered lowly, but there was no response. Ivan fisted his hands, his own violet eyes holding on to Alfred's vacant gaze. How many times had he seen eyes so similar to those? Too often. He had seen them far too often. "Alfred," he said more forcibly, his hands griping the elf's shoulders tightly, "wake up."

Alfred scowled lightly, but still his eyes remained impassive, no anger or even irritation visible in their depths. It was unnerving.

Alfred opened and closed his mouth, a heavy sheen visible on his skin."… Emma Halam." Ivan raised a brow, had Alfred spoken? Blank eyes gazed into his violet eyes. "Emma isala reth."

"Elvish?" Ivan said surprised. Unlike Yao he hadn't concerned himself with trying to comprehend the language. What was the use? Before Alfred he was more than certain he wouldn't have a need to learn the language. It seemed that was something he would have to correct as soon as Yao returned. "Rest. Go to sleep, Alfred."

He opened his mouth again, the same words leaving his mouth. Only when Ivan closed his eyes did Alfred stop. Ivan pulled his hand away quickly, looking at his fingers with slight surprise. His fingers tingled, the heat from Alfred's flesh still lingering on his skin.

He would need to bring that temperature down. Ivan loomed over Alfred as he placed a wet cloth on his brow, droplets of cool water running down his face. Was Alfred's fever normal? Maybe his affinity for fire could explain his high temperature? His own flesh was abnormally cold, after all.

Ivan looked at Alfred curiously. Just how strong of a mage was the elf? For magic to affect his body temperature… he would have to be very strong.

"All that potential and you refuse to acknowledge that part of yourself." He looked at Alfred darkly, his gaze once more lingering on Alfred's lips. "And yet I think that may be why I like you. Did you know that?" he mumbled as he leaned forward. He groaned as his wintry lips melt Alfred's fever-kissed lips. The sheer difference in temperature was enough for Ivan to lose himself in the action. He slipped his tongue into Alfred's mouth, the taste of mint and elf root greeting him. A potion for fevers he mused, the thought reminding Ivan of the elf's predicament. He pulled away from the kiss, languidly he licked his lips, his gaze hungry as he watched the elf sleep.

oOo

**Elf Root**: The common name for canavaris, this herb actually has little to do with elves other than being commonly collected and traded to outsiders by the Dalish. It is the primary ingredient in many healing salves.

oOo

* * *

><p>"Ugh," Alfred curled into himself, his muscles protesting the action. He felt like shit, but then again, that wasn't anything new. He opened his eyes only to close them immediately. His skin tingled, the sensation unnerving him. It felt too much like the darkness that had tried burrowing into his skin.<p>

Begrudgingly he sat up, the world blurry as he fought to keep his eyes open. Where had he left his glasses? He rubbed his face, stopping when he felt something soft meet his hand. "What the hell?" He grabbed the material from his brow, finding it slightly wet. Why was there a washcloth on his forehead?

A slow, deep laugh caught Alfred's attention. He turned towards the noise, even without his glasses he knew who that was. Blurred violet filled his vision. Creators, was he ever gonna get a break?

"And here I was beginning to think that you'd never wake."

Alfred rolled his eyes, but quickly wished he hadn't. He really did feel awful… "What I'm I doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" Ivan smiled, the corner of his mouth bellying the self-assurance he felt. "Tell me, elf, what's the last thing you remember?" No way… this had to be a joke! There was absolutely no way that Ivan could know what had happened. "Well?"

Alfred laughed, the noise low at first then loud and bubbling from his lips. "You've gotta be kidding me… you were there?"

Ivan nodded, as he tossed a small object to Alfred.

He looked down, a small smile spreading across his lips as he traced the metallic frames of his glasses. They were alright, he had been so damned worried that they had been damaged by the fight with the demon. Alfred slid them on, his smile fading as his vision settled on Ivan.

He smiled serenely at Alfred, but from the way that the room had chilled it was obvious that there was nothing peaceful about it. Shit, just how angry was this guy?

"It seems as the demon has taking quite the liking to you." Ivan leaned back into his seat, his gaze cold as he judged Alfred. Even though Alfred's skin burned as hot as the desert trampled ground, he couldn't help the cold shiver that passed his body. "To come all this way to our realm, to enter _my_ home… it must truly want you."

"It's not alone on that," he blurted out.

Alfred smiled with poorly concealed glee at the look of genuine surprise on Ivan's face, but it was short lived. Ivan smiled that indifferent smile of his, and as every other time, Alfred wasn't sure what it meant.

"Is it so hard to believe that I am not your enemy?"

Alfred scoffed. "It doesn't matter, I don't want your help."

"But you need it." Ivan smiled, the motion full of mockery. "Do you still believe that you can handle this on your own?"

"I beat it back, didn't I?"

"Is that what you call it?" Ivan asked curiously, a dark mirthless smile etched on his lips. "You elves have a funny way of saying you won by sheer luck."

Alfred turned his body, his legs swinging over the edge of the bed. "The only solution to this mess is to stand and fight." He looked Ivan in the eye, dark violet clashing with midnight-blue. "And I did."

"Heh," Ivan grinned, his arms crossed as he shook his head in amusement. "The only solution? There is **one** solution to this problem, elf. One." He stood from his seat, towering over Alfred. "And you already know what it is. Did you expect to find some other way to keep the demon away? There is no secret revelation to be had."

"You don't know that for sure."

Ivan shook his head once again, strands of platinum hair obscuring his violet eyes. "I have entertained your silly notions for long enough. We made a deal, Alfred." Bits of violet peeked out, glinting from the flickering light of the candles adorning the room.

Alfred swallowed audibly, his eyes hesitant. That fucking deal… He was so _sure_ that he could hold out much longer. He licked his lips, a habit he hadn't been able to break himself from. His body burned, but despite this he could feel the intense heat from Ivan's gaze, it roamed over his body, searing his already burned flesh.

"Yeah, I know, you don't have to remind me," Alfred barked out in annoyance, his eyes narrowed.

"Could it be," Ivan said suddenly, his gaze thoughtful, "that you're upset at me because I took something precious from you?"

Alfred smiled bitterly, his eyes slightly downcast as he met Ivan's eyes. "You didn't take away anything precious." He really hadn't.

Ivan raised a perfectly arched brow. "Oh?" he remarked with interest as he walked towards the bed, closing what little distance had separated him from Alfred. "If it's nothing special, if I'm not your **first**," Alfred cringed at the iciness of Ivan's voice, "then why are you so against my help?"

"It doesn't have to mean something for me to be pissed at you! You act like you've never had anyone turn you down."

Ivan ignored the jibe. "If it's not the sex, then what is it? Your foolish pride?"

"Pride isn't foolish." As a Dalish elf, pride was all he had left. Elves in general were nothing but a mockery of their former selves, at least as a Dale he had _some_ pride to cling to. "Why can't it just be because I don't trust you?"

"What cause have I given for **you** to distrust me?" Ivan laughed, his eyes gleaming dangerously. "I've been nothing but cordial with you. Even the Grey Wardens, who _should_ be weary of me, have requested my help." Alfred looked at him darkly, but didn't reply. "Asking for assistance does not make you weak, if it means survival, isn't it worth it?"

"Sometimes death is the better choice."

Ivan stared at him hard, the look chilling Alfred to the core. "That demon will not stop until it has you, and I won't let that happen. Do you understand, elf? All those bad dreams are not far away from reality."

Alfred bit his lip in frustration. The bastard was right.

Ivan stood before Alfred, his eyes pulling Alfred into their murky, violet depths. "I'm not the villain you seem to think I am," Ivan said softly, his voice dripping with honey, thick and viscous, entrapping Alfred with every word. "Let me help," he muttered softly, as he cupped Alfred's face.

Help, was that what he called it? Alfred clenched the sheets wrapped tightly around him, his eyes large as he eyed Ivan. He was talking, but the words were muddled. All Alfred could hear was his own heartbeat, ringing through his ears, filling the room with the drumming sound of his fear.

He had agreed to this, there was no way he would try and get out of it, but when would this be enough? Would it ever?

… Was it already too much?

Ivan leaned forward, stopping just as his cool lips brushed against Alfred's.

Alfred looked at those vibrant violet eyes, the feel of cool skin against his heated flesh making him feel tipsy. "Are you sure there's not another way?"

Ivan released his hold on Alfred's face, instead pulling Alfred into his chest. He fell into the hug awkwardly, not certain if he should push Ivan back. They stayed like that for quite some time, warm puffs of air sending chills down Alfred's body. Finally Ivan spoke, his voice ringing with an emotion Alfred couldn't quite place. "You wouldn't like the alternatives."

"You lying bastard, you said—"

"I know what I said," Ivan replied calmly as he pulled away from the hug, his gaze dark as he griped Alfred's chin. "But those alternatives are not the answer you want. If you hate this, well," he smiled darkly, all humor gone from his face, "I can only imagine your anger when you find out this is the better choice."

There was still a chance. Alfred smiled lightly, his eyes ablaze. He'd give in to Ivan this time, but it wouldn't mean he would give up.

Ivan leaned forward, his lips once again stopping as he neared Alfred's lips. The smell of mint and dirt mingled in the air, and before Alfred knew it he was leaning forward to meet Ivan's lips, catching himself at the very last second. He pulled back slightly, his face flushed as he saw the amused look on Ivan's face.

"Just do it," Alfred said angrily, closing his eyes. He heard Ivan's chuckle, the noise reverberating about the room, dimming the sound of his drumming heart.

Instead of lips meeting his own, Ivan pressed his forehead against Alfred's, a light laugh filling the space between them. Had anyone else heard Ivan laugh like that? "What?" Alfred asked annoyed.

"You didn't seem too keen on the idea earlier."

Alfred opened his eyes, his gaze full of hate. Just as he opened his mouth, anger on the tip of his tongue, Ivan pressed his lips against Alfred's. A muffled gasp was all that left his lips.

As much as he disliked it, Alfred felt himself melt into the kiss. Ivan's lips felt _nice_ against his own. He felt his eyes grow heavy, until they closed of their own accord, but even with closed eyes he could see the smile on Ivan's lips, or more precisely, feel it upon his skin.

Alfred gasped as Ivan released his lips, turning his attention to Alfred's freshly healed throat. Ivan licked the lyrium tendrils slowly, sucking the flesh at the edges of the metal. Alfred moaned, his eyes scrunched tightly as his body fell to Ivan's touch. The metal lighted underneath Ivan's touch as he traced the marks with a type of reverence Alfred wasn't used to.

Cloudy blue eyes opened slowly, lingering on Ivan for just a second. Slowly, oh so slowly, Alfred's gaze fell to the shadows flickering about the room. They weren't the same. They didn't move of their own accord, morphing, shifting, following him… waiting to swallow him whole.

What was it about Ivan that the demon feared? Alfred gasped, his thoughts on the demon gone as Ivan ran his hand through Alfred's hair, his other hand trailing across the elf's back.

Alfred clenched his eyes shamefully. He wasn't use to this. Wasn't used to sex actually being pleasurable. With Sadik it had hurt, had been humiliating.

He didn't _like_ Ivan.

But he liked Ivan's touch. Liked the feel of Ivan's lips on his skin. And that was mortifying.

Alfred hissed as Ivan tore at the bandages to touch the flesh beneath. If Ivan had heard Alfred's discomfort he ignored it, instead he trailed his hand across the expanse of flesh and metal. "I'll never tire of this," he remarked softly to himself, yet Alfred heard him. He clenched his eyes even tighter as he felt warmth travel to his groin. Alfred squirmed against the light touches, finally giving up on sitting up. He fell onto the mattress, the bed creaking beneath him. Ivan followed him closely, trailing kisses across Alfred's clavicle, down to his chest. "Ahh –_ngh_!" Alfred turned his head, cheeks heavily flushed. His legs on either side of Ivan, hanging from the edge of the bed.

He felt Ivan pull away, but refused to look. The bed springs creaked as Ivan shifted, but still he refused. He didn't want to see that smug face. That bastard knew all along that he wouldn't be able to hold the demon off. Had known other ways to fight it off, but refused to tell him.

Alfred instinctively pushed his hands out as he felt breath near his ear. "Open your eyes."

"What?" Alfred licked his lips anxiously. "No."

Whatever it was that Ivan wanted to show him he didn't want to see it. What if it was some elaborate trick to taunt him?

"Alfred," Ivan purred gently, "open them."

It was scary, simply terrifying how he could change his voice so easily, so quickly. And more terrifying than all that was how easily Ivan toyed with him. Each action, every word, he couldn't help but react to all of it.

"Heh, fine," Ivan remarked calmly, unbuttoning Alfred's shirt. He rested his hand across Alfred's heart, the markings on his chest pulsating against Ivan's touch. Alfred swore, the words muffled by the blankets on the bed. His heart drummed loudly, Ivan's touch doing nothing to calm it. Ivan leaned forward, his voice falling over Alfred like some holy fire. "There's no need to be scared. I said that I'd be your moon. You want protection," he brushed the outline of Alfred's jaw, his gaze unwavering, "just say my name."

Ivan slid down slightly, undoing Alfred's pants. Alfred licked his lips anxiously, all too aware of what was to come. His body remained still, but there was an obvious tension visible on his body. It wouldn't hurt too terribly, he knew that, but he didn't like the vulnerability that came with sex. The intimate caresses that could turn bloody, the closeness that would morph into domination...

Alfred took in a shuddering breath, his arms covering his face. Breathe. Just breathe he repeated mentally, his anxiety clashing with his desire. This wasn't Sadik. If he wanted to, really wanted, he could fight Ivan off. He could put a stop to this. He wasn't weak.

Ivan wasn't Sadik.

Damn it, he was shaking!

"The pain will subside," Ivan remarked reassuringly, once more hovering over Alfred, his hands resting on either side of the elf's head. Alfred would have laughed had he control of the situation, but he didn't. He shook his head, eyes closed tightly. Ivan reached out, brushing Alfred's hair gently, but he cringed at the touch.

Ivan pulled away from him, a sigh escaping his lips. "I had assumed that you were just nervous the first time, but it seems that I miscalculated that greatly," he said heavily. He looked at Alfred with a mix of pity and anger. "I take it that Magister wasn't the best person to bed, was he?"

Alfred didn't respond.

Ivan sat between Alfred's legs, unmoving as he watched Alfred breathe with an impassive face, but his violet eyes gleamed madly as the minutes stretched. The sound of the burning wick and Alfred's anxious pants filled the air between them.

"You know that this is the only way," Ivan said at last. His violet gaze lingered from Alfred to the encroaching darkness of the room. "The alternatives are not going to be any better, elf."

"They can be," Alfred muttered lowly, a tinge of annoyance visible in his shaken voice.

A slow smile spread across Ivan's lips. He leaned forward, hesitating for just a second before his lips pressed into Alfred's. Then, just as abruptly as he began, Ivan pulled away, not just from the kiss but from Alfred as well. He walked towards his countless bookshelves, every step away from Alfred causing nothing but confusion within the elf.

What the hell had happened?

With abated breath Alfred pulled his arms from his face. He sat up awkwardly, his eyes falling on Ivan's prone figure. He was reading, or at least that's what he wanted Alfred to think. But he wasn't a fool, Ivan's gaze was on the book, but any idiot could see that he wasn't actually reading it.

"Go to sleep, elf." Ivan turned towards Alfred, his violet gaze leaving no room for argument. "This," he motioned between the both of them, "isn't finished."

* * *

><p>an: Hope you guys enjoyed!


	11. As We Move Forward

Disclaimer: Hetalia-Axis Powers and Dragon age do not belong to me.

Chapter 10: As We Move Forward

* * *

><p>Yong Soo looked up into the sky once more, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. He had sent his dear brother a message nearly an hour ago. Yao was never late. Could something have happened to him? He laughed. It was a preposterous thought, Yao didn't need anyone to worry about his welfare. You didn't just happen to be the Archon's right-hand man. Yao had earned Ivan's trust, and had fought to keep it. Yong Soo brought his hands to his lips, breath warming his chilled flesh.<p>

Yao's official title was Healer of the Court, but that was by his choice. The Archon had wanted to appoint him to the Senate, but Yao had refused. It wasn't skill his brother lacked. Yao hadn't wanted to get caught up in the web of political strife. "So much for that," Yong Soo said evenly.

His dear brother had taken it upon himself to oversee the Magisters in Ivan's place. Only when he himself deemed the matter important would he allow them to meet with the Archon. He held a position in the very heart of the Tevinter politics.

And all because he _cared_.

oOo

**Archon**: The mage-ruler of the Tevinter Imperium.

**Magister**: One of the ruling mageocrats of the Tevinter Imperium. Magisters are members of the Senate and constantly compete with their fellows to rise into a higher position on the council, though they come together to put down slave rebellions, which they view as sedition. Raising one's position on the Senate can be achieved through wealth, magical prowess and/or support by fellow Senators.

oOo

The Archon had earned his position be his skills, there was no doubting that, but he kept his position because of Yao. His brother saw things that most would miss. Plans for assassinations thwarted, rules enforced, even when they were vastly unpopular. The new Empire was nothing to be trifled with.

And it was all due to Yao.

"Yao," he whined loudly, his voice clashing with the deathly silence of the sleeping alienage. What was his brother doing? Yong Soo leaned back against the wall, arms crossed as he watched hues of blue and purple appear in the sky.

oOo

**Alienage**: Squalid city wards in which elven citizens dwell. While there are rarely laws which strictly prohibit elves and humans integrating, an elf who moves into a human area is likely to be subjected to insults, torment and, in many cases, attacked even killed. It is for this reason that the alienages exist: a place for elves to mix among their own, where they do not stand out as much.

oOo

This sky was so very different from the one in the Imperium. The colors not the same, here the sky was an off shade of blue, the sun too dark, too cold and foreign on his flesh. Leon had said it was his imagination, but what did he know? Unlike the rest of them, Leon had basically been raised in Ferelden. But even if he only saw the difference in the colors of the sky, none of them could deny that the stars here weren't the same.

Yong Soo smiled softly, an unusual peace falling around him. Yao had found him because of those stars. Had found all of them because he had meddled in affairs that didn't require his attention, Leon, Mei, Trinh, and that _traitor_.

The smile morphed, tight and unpleasant. What semblance of serenity that had been present gone. It seemed that intervening was something that Yao excelled at and, for better or worse, it was something that his dear brother wouldn't be giving up anytime soon. Especially seeing as he was here in Ferelden trying to forge an alliance.

Was that elf, too, a product of Yao's intrusion?

Maker, did Yao expect him to call the elf **brother**?

"Sorry about being so late I – what's wrong?" Yong Soo turned, eyes large with panic, an embarrassed grin etched upon his face. Yao raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "… Right." Yao walked towards Yong Soo, the cobblestone amplifying each step. "It took longer than I expected to leave the palace. It seems they have extra guards around the guest quarters," he said thoughtfully.

"Don't worry about it." Yong Soo smiled, his embarrassment from before forgotten for the moment. It wasn't often that Yao apologized to _him_. Had this been Leon or Mei, he would certainly have taunted them for their lateness. But this was Yao, and he had learned that his older brother often didn't see the humor in his jabs.

"So, why did you call me out here so early? Don't tell me that you've already found information on the slavers."

Yong Soo grinned, his gloom, like always, gone in the presence of Yao. "I've been watching the alienage like you asked me to. It's been real quiet, too, which is why this particular elf caught my attention."

"It _is_ an elven alienage, Yong Soo."

"Heh," he leaned forward, his gaze never leaving Yao's own. "But this was a Dalish elf. And he had an Orlesian with him. An Orlesian Grey Warden to be precise."

"… The same guest staying at the palace?" Yong Soo nodded. "And in the company of a Dalish elf?"

oOo

**Dalish Elves**: Elves that lead nomadic lives, wandering throughout Thedas. The clans date back to the ruling clans of the Dales and the Dalish themselves are their descendants. Dalish elves seek to recover, inherit and preserve the knowledge and sacred treasures of their two fallen kingdoms(Arlathan and the Dales) and for that purpose they'll often seek out old elven ruins for such things in the face of danger. They still revere the elven pantheon.

**Grey Wardens**: An ancient organization of warriors of exceptional ability dedicated to fighting darkspawn throughout Thedas. The Grey Wardens are known for ignoring a recruit's racial, social, national, and even criminal background if they deem the person valuable in terms of character or ability.

oOo

"So you didn't know about the elf?"

Yao shook his head. "Though I'm surprised that a Dalish elf is willingly speaking with a human. They're not very trusting of any human institutions, and that includes the Wardens." Yong Soo nodded, all too aware of the truth in Yao's words. It was one of the reasons he had followed them.

"I remembered you telling me about the Orlesian," he began, his cheerful voice darkening at the mention of the Warden who had insulted his brother. "The elf only piqued my interest further. That accent of his means he's from here, from Ferelden."

Yao mulled over the information, his gaze distant. "Elf or not, the Orlesians don't particularly care for foreigners. Not even when they had conquered Ferelden. The Dalish have as much right to hate Orlais as Fereldeners do. And yet he's with an Orlesian…" Yao tilted his head to the side. "But what does this have to do with the slavers?"

"That's the thing, I had followed them out of simple curiosity," and possibly to get back at that Warden. Not that he would tell Yao that. "But as it turns out, they're quite interested in the slavers as well."

Yao's face went blank instantly. "They're interested in the slave ring?" Yong Soo nodded, not quite sure if the question was directed at him or to Yao himself. "Did you hear anything else?"

"Well," he fought to keep the smile from his lips, yet the tall-tale sign of the tips of his lips curving gave him away, "that Orlesian seems very interested in you. Not just him, his friend too."

Yao grimaced at the comment. His eyes drawing Yong Soo in, those eyes! Yong Soo fisted his hands. Those amber eyes were far too solemn and somehow – somehow they suddenly looked far too old, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.

And Yong Soo did not doubt it.

He watched Yao quietly, suddenly reminded of a very familiar scene from his childhood. There weren't many things he remembered, but he could recall nearly every memory involving Yao. And standing there in that alley, in the alienage in Ferelden, watching Yao think away… well, he felt like a child again.

Once more mesmerized by that intense look in those amber eyes, the way they darted back and forth, connecting dots that only he could see. He always had admired the way Yao could see beyond simple words and actions. Yao always saw what others were blind to.

"Those Grey Wardens," Yong Soo blinked in surprise, finding Yao's steady gaze upon him, "I don't believe it's a mere coincidence that they're here in Ferelden."

Yao paced before Yong Soo, strands of hair escaping from their binds. "This Warden," he stopped, an aggravated sigh leaving his lips as he turned to face Yong Soo. "I've been in Ferelden for well over a month, yet the king has been unable to see me. At every opportunity this Warden comes and takes the king's time." He narrowed his gaze as he looked back towards the palace. "I think they're purposefully sabotaging this meeting between me and the king. Between the Tevinter Imperium and Ferelden."

"So what? You think _they're _ responsible for the slavers?"

Yao shot a weathering look at Yong Soo, "Don't be foolish." For a second a glimmer of a younger, but still miffed, Yao stood before him. Youthful eyes full of optimism all too suddenly replaced by eyes that were strong and guarded, capable of fostering trust and well versed in hiding the truth. "I'm more than certain that they have nothing to do with the slave ring being here in Ferelden. Though it must have been quite the surprise when they heard that I was coming," he said with a wry smile. "They don't trust my intentions. I think they're hoping that if they stall enough I'll make a mistake, possibly make a scene from being kept waiting or…"

"Or…?" he prompted, catching the subtle change in Yao's posture. The tightness which Yao held himself was far more revealing than any words he could have spoken. It may not have been obvious to others, but _he_ knew his brother well enough to know when to stay clear of him. Everyone was terrified of the Archon's fury, but Yao's own wrath was nothing to be trifled with.

Just how much pressure was his brother under? Yong Soo furrowed his brow as he watched Yao's feet move smoothly over the cobblestone, each step precise and absolute. "Or," Yao said at last, "they think I'm connected to the slavers. I could be using this political talk as a pretext to actually speak with the slavers."

The words clung to the air, heavy and wet.

"You're kidding, right?"

Yao pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "This isn't funny."

"But, you?" he shouted. "They think that _you're_ involved in slavery?" Yong Soo walked forward, swinging his arm playfully about Yao's shoulder. "If they think that, then they're nothing to worry about. You're always talking about knowing your enemy. Well they clearly don't know you."

Yao looked at him in surprise, a soft smile replacing his astonishment. "Misinformed enemies are just as dangerous."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Appearances are deceiving," Yao said automatically. "Didn't I teach you that as a child?"

"I know, I know, I'm not a child attached to your hip anymore."

Yao nodded, his gaze distant as he stared up into shifting sky. "Is that right?" he said skeptically. "Age means nothing, Yong Soo. You could live to be the age of the Maker, but if you're no wiser than you were in your youth, then who's to say you're still not a child?"

He pulled away from Yong Soo, pulling tightly bound parchments from the pouch at his side. "Deliver these to the others. The nobility has been watching everything I send out with the strictest scrutiny. I can't have these documents be intercepted. See that they make it."

"I won't let you down."

"I know you won't." Yao straightened his cloak and took a step away from Yong Soo, before stopping and turning back. After a slight hesitation he reached out and gently ruffled Yong Soo's hair. "You did well, brother."

Yao turned, a slight blush on his cheeks as he walked into the waking city.

Yong Soo watched him until he disappeared among the tall lanky buildings of the alienage. A large grin set firmly upon his face. He fondly patted his head, a deep feeling of childlike euphoria engulfing him.

"Maybe being treated as a kid isn't too bad," he muttered softly to himself as he melded with the slowly revived city.

* * *

><p>Alfred ran his hand through his hair absentmindedly while Ivan spoke. It had gone much like this for the past week. Ivan met with countless Magisters while Alfred watched on as his personal guard. The recent influx of meetings had more to do with Toris than anything else. He simply couldn't say no to anyone.<p>

Alfred stifled a yawn, fighting the temptation to fidget where stood. He hadn't protested when Ivan told him to accompany him to these meetings, but he hadn't realized just how boring legal proceeding were.

When he had belonged to Sadik there hadn't been anytime for his mind to stray. He had assumed that all meetings were like that. Now he knew it was because Sadik dealt with the shadier side of Tevinter politics.

"… you should receive the documents before nightfall. Is that all?" The Magister nodded, bowing before he left. Once the doors closed Ivan pinched the bridge of his nose, shoulders slightly slumping as he leaned back onto his seat..

The look of exhaustion wasn't lost on Alfred, neither was the look of annoyance that he threw at Toris. "When is the next one?" he asked Toris.

"The next one is-is," he cleared his throat, "in forty minutes."

Ivan nodded gaze turning vacant,

Alfred and Ivan hadn't been able to speak freely since the attack. Despite that Ivan kept him close. He demanded that Alfred be at these meeting. He ate with Alfred even though his focus was elsewhere. Had Alfred stand guard when he bathed, and then guarded Alfred when he _himself_ bathed. And Ivan did it all without any of the usual jibes.

He did try to have Alfred bathe with him once, but relented immediately once he saw Alfred's face. "It's to save time, Alfred." Looking back on it, Ivan might have been speaking the truth.

He began sleeping in Alfred's room, a plush chair suddenly appearing in his room with Ivan lounging on it. But Ivan's idea of rest was work. When he would be able to sleep Alfred would awaken to the sound of quill against paper and Ivan's soft mutters of annoyance.

The looks he would give Alfred when he thought he wasn't looking where concerning. Even the smug smiles he wore were toned down.

By all accounts Alfred should have been happy.

But he wasn't.

He wanted to talk about this whole thing. Clear it up and get answers. But Ivan had no time or simply wasn't in the mood.

"Alfred?"

"Hmm," he blinked. "Yeah?"

Ivan's brows pulled in. "I said that Magister Elizabeta wants to see you. There's a bit of time before my next meeting. I can accompany you." He smiled and it actually reached his eyes.

"Checkup?"

He nodded. "Come, let's go before I find myself out of time once again."

Ivan was beaming as he walked beside Alfred. His smile thinning as they approached the infirmary. "I can't stay for the examination."

Alfred nodded. "Figured. No problem."

"Yes, there is a problem." Ivan's gaze lingered on the exposed bandages wrapped around Alfred's neck, what looked suspiciously like guilt flickering through his eyes. "Ask Elizabeta to stay with you until I can come and get you."

"I can just go to you afterwards."

"No." Ivan's tone was business like, stern and professional. "Ask her to stay behind, Alfred. You can't be left alone."

Alfred crossed his arms. "I can't?"

"No," Ivan glared, "you can't."

He matched the glare before finally relenting. Alfred threw his hands before him as he walked away from Ivan. An exasperated, "Creators," leaving his lips. He was not in the mood for this.

Alfred stormed into the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Elizabeta jerked at the noise, eyes wide as she stared at Alfred.

"Hey," he said weakly, ears burning red.

She smiled as she shook her head. "Hi yourself." She glanced at the door. "No Archon today?" The surprise in her voice was hard to miss.

"Just me."

"That's a rare site these days."

Alfred hummed in agreement, sitting on the examination table.

Elizabeta looked well. The last time he saw her she had looked exhausted. Her eyes had been dark and flat, her hair disheveled as if she had been running her hands through it nonstop. Alfred had awoken numerous times to her tending his wounds in that appearance. Each time she had asked him how he was. Was he alright? What hurt?

"How are you?"

"I'm fine," Alfred smiled a lopsided grin at her reassuringly. It must have worked because the unease on her face faded, replaced with a warm smile.

"Mind taking your armor off? Just the upper portion will be fine." Elizabeta turned away from him, busying herself with some herbs and salves while Alfred removed his equipment. It was ridiculous that she turn away from him, ridiculous that she would give him privacy.

Alfred smiled widely, slowly shaking his head in disbelief. "Thank you," he said softly. Elizabeta paused for a moment, but gave no other indication that she heard him.

She turned back after Alfred called out to her.

Her brow wrinkled as she eyed the worn bandages. "I should have asked to see you sooner," she said. "Have any of these given you a problem?"

"Some of them… itch."

Elizabeta removed the bandages around his chest. "Itch?" She bit her lip as she cautiously traced a jagged gash across Alfred's chest. He squirmed on the seat. "Sorry." She pulled her hand back, examining the liquid on her finger. "When did it start?"

"I'm not sure," Alfred paused. Ivan. It always started itching when Ivan was far from him. The first time he noticed the itching was when he was bathing. Ivan had been outside the room. Even now the itching was starting to become a nuisance.

Elizabeta nodded slowly, eyes flicking back from the Alfred's wounds to the residue on her finger. "The wounds aren't healing." She frowned. "I'm going to try stitching magic into some of the gashes, okay?"

"You're the boss."

Elizabeta grimaced as she worked, threading magic through Alfred's skin. It was… unpleasant. Alfred muscles jerked involuntarily with each stitch. "I'm nearly done," she reassured, stitching around the lyrium markings on his skin. She hesitated mid-stitch, eyes flicking back to a gash she had already sutured.

"They're reopening…" she said in disbelief, eyes widening as she took a step back. "Magic has no affect. That's why the wounds still look so fresh." Elizabeta turned away from Alfred, scanning the shelves wildly.

Alfred's chest felt tight as if there was a vice grip around his heart. "What does that mean?" he asked, voice lowered to a whisper.

"Some demons, when they attack, leave their mark behind. It's to weaken their target. Compromise their health and you'll have an easy target. That black residue in your wounds is to keep you weak. That's explains the itching you're feeling, it may be the start of an infection. I'm going to put some of this salve on your wounds. I'm not sure if it will help heal you wounds, but it will help fight the infection."

Alfred swallowed thickly. "Alright." He didn't protest when Elizabeta smeared the salve over his skin, didn't even feel the numb relief that the cream was supposed to give. His skin was on fire, his chest tight. More than ever he wanted to know what the alternative was.

Alfred had come to terms with sleeping with Ivan.

Sex was supposed to be intimate, but that didn't mean it always was.

He had only had sex with two people that he knew of, his blank memory notwithstanding. He himself _had_ used sex as a tool when he had belonged to Sadik, but it was more flirtation and some heavy foreplay that he employed, never going any further with his targets.

All they needed was the promise that they would bed Alfred for them to drop their guard. Only once had he come close to the actual act itself.

The Magister he had been tasked with killing bore an unhealthy resemblance to Sadik in the way that she received pleasure. The more blood she had running off Alfred's body the more she lost herself in ecstasy, the more her guard dropped.

Even when Alfred ripped her beating heart out she smiled, a contented sigh the last sound she made as she fell upon him.

Sex was a means to an end. A tool.

If Ivan was right and the alternative was no better or even worse, then Alfred would have no qualms about this arrangement.

At least not anymore.

* * *

><p>The smile that graced Yao's face came easily. When Lily had informed him that the King would see him, well, he knew that something was amiss. But he hadn't expected that something to be the Wardens.<p>

Yao nodded at them, smile still in place. It made sense and Yao _had_ entertained the notion of the Wardens being present during these proceedings, but he had ultimately dismissed the idea all together. The Orlesian smiled back at Yao pleasantly while the elf narrowed his gaze.

What anxiety that laced through his veins vanished at the reproachful look, replaced instead with the familiar air of diplomatic confidence. Yao was used to this. He may be in another land, but he was more than familiar with the attitude that the elven Warden radiated.

Truth be told, the animosity almost made it feel like home.

"Welcome to Denerim." Yao's gaze moved toward the commanding voice. King Basch sat upon his throne, his blonde chin-length hair reminiscent of Princess Lily, but that was where their similarities ended. Unlike the Princess, the King's eyes held a controlled hardness. There was no kindness in its depths, only a thinly veiled curiosity.

Yao bowed. "Thank you for having me, your Majesty."

King Basch nodded. His gaze solely on Yao as he spoke. "I must admit, it came as a surprise when I saw your letter. An alliance," he mused aloud, his stony gaze lingering on the Wardens for a second. "I was originally going to deny your request, but this conversation proved too tempting. It's not often that your Empire would send the Archon's second in command out of the safety of their borders."

"Our two countries," Basch began, "don't have much in common. Except on our dealings with other nation, other leaders." King Basch smiled, the action eerily reminiscent to Ivan's own. "Both our nations don't like to get involved. Not with the petty wars of the foolish nations around us, not in their causes, none of it." He looked at Yao. "Our own countries come first."

"Alliances do not come without ulterior motives." King Basch motioned towards the Wardens, gaze amused. "You didn't even try to hide the fact that you were meeting with me. Did you really think that the other nations in Thedas wouldn't look at this alliance without a _bit_ of fear?"

"There's nothing to hide. The Tevinter Imperium wants this alliance to be public."

King Basch nodded, irritation visible in his voice. "And yet three countries requested the Wardens be present for this conversation." He looked at the Wardens, hands lightly clenched. "Ferelden has remained neutral to all nations since our independence. One request of an alliance and suddenly I have all these countries poking their noses in proceedings that are _none_ of their business." He looked back at Yao, emotions reeled back. "Ferelden is an isolationist country. I was under the impression that the Tevinter Imperium was as well."

"Isolationism doesn't come without problems," Yao began. "The Tevinter Imperium has cut most ties with Thedas, not all of them voluntarily. It's no secret that the empire doesn't have the best reputation amongst the countries." The elf mumbled what was no doubt an insult, but Yao ignored it. "The empire has changed much since then. I'm not certain how much accurate news leaves the empire, but we have a new Archon. One who wants change in Tevinter."

"Yes, Archon Ivan, the mage who took down the Arishok single-handedly," King Basch remarked, a bit of admiration is his tone. "Must have been quite the battle, seeing as the rumor in Thedas is that your senate voted unanimously for him to become the new mage-ruler."

oOo

**Archon**: The mage-ruler of the Tevinter Imperium.

**Arishok**: The leader and highest ranking general of the antaam, the military branch of the Qunari.

**Qunari**: Name for the horned race that primarily inhabits northern Thedas. It is also a term that can refer to a member of any race who adheres to the teachings of the Qun: humans, elves and even dwarves can thus become Qunari.

**Qun**: is a philosophy, a set of laws, a legislative guide, and a social architecture governing the Qunari. The Qun defines the role of everyone and everything in the society of the Qunari.

oOo

"Yes, it was quite the battle," Yao said, tone slightly prideful. "Archon Ivan has been putting pressure where our previous rulers were lax. But as it turns out, internal change is vastly more difficult when you have external influences keeping your trouble around."

Basch raised a brow. "And what external influences can be so pressing that your country is actively seeking alliances?"

"Slavery," Yao said calmly. "Illegal slavery."

The shift of emotions in the room was instantaneous. If Yao hadn't had everybody's attention before, he certainly did then.

"Slavery?" King Basch questioned, tone incredulous. "What does slavery have to do with Tevinter's isolationist stance? With this alliance?" He looked at Yao with suspicion. "Doesn't your country practically run on slavery?"

Yao smiled, but the strain of it wasn't lost on the king. "Slavery is not illegal in Tevinter. I am not here to tell you otherwise. But," Yao stressed, "the buying and selling of citizens from other countries is." He paused, making certain that the King understood. "The empires stance just isn't for our protection. It's supposed to help us uphold our laws. With an empire as large as ours, well, there are enough complexities making sure the empire functions as it should." Yao's gaze hardened. "So you can understand why this is making us break our long held belief of steering clear of the rest of Thedas."

"You want to know what you would gain from this alliance?" Yao asked, not waiting for the king's response. "The threat of slavers within Ferelden will be no more."

A sharp intake of breath from the Wardens was all that marked the announcement, but even that fell on deaf ears.

"You're offering an alliance to stop ? In Ferelden?"

Yao nodded. "It's as you said. Why else would two isolationist countries suddenly forge an alliance? Because there has to be _something_ gained. Something important enough for both parties to see past their animosity for one another."

King Basch leaned back against his throne, hands interlocked before him. He tilted his head slightly, and regarded Yao silently.

"Ferelden doesn't need a friend."

"No, it doesn't, and neither does Tevinter. But I'm not proposing a friendship. An alliance based on gains, and a common goal is what Tevinter is offering."

"And when that common conviction we both share divulges?" Basch questioned.

"Then we go are separate ways."

He said nothing for quite some time. "You may be the Archon's confidant, but here in Ferelden that doesn't count for much." King Basch stood and quietly made his way towards Yao, there was a cautiousness in the way he approached him. Almost as if he expected Yao to lunge at him, this meeting all a pretense to slay Ferelden's king.

It was a foolish thought.

Tevinter was busy with one war. It didn't need a second.

Though Yao suspected that the King's vigilance had been ingrained in him from birth. The former king had freed Ferelden from Orlais, and he would have made certain that it would not fall again under his son.

And in that regard the king had a right to be weary. Ferelden, for all its current might, was still a freshly, independent nation. And if he recalled Ferelden rule correctly, the king received his support and power from the noble families. Without it, he was king only in name.

"And that common ambition?"

"Ending slavery in Ferelden."

"And when said goal is accomplished?"

"This alliance is terminated. As I said, Tevinter has no need for friends. We have interest. If your interests and our interests align, you will be an ally. If your interests and our interests diverge, then well…"

Basch nodded, face blank as his eyes bore into Yao's own. "I need more than just you word. The nobles need more than just your word. What you are asking of me is damn near impossible."

"The same could be said for what your father, the former king, did for Ferelden. Uniting fractions of Alamarri tribesmen under the Zwingli family crest. And when he had accomplished the unthinkable he did the unimaginable. He managed to drive Orlais out of his land."

oOo

**Alamarri**: The tribal ancestors of the Fereldans, the people who live in the nation of Ferelden. The Alamarri was not a single tribe, but a loose coalition of tribes.

oOo

Yao smiled as he caught the very light crease on king Basch's brow. "You find my country interesting," Basch said pensively. "But what I find interesting is not your empire – it's _you_."

"Me?"

"Yes, you." He stepped back, scrutinizing Yao from the bit of distance he had put between them. "You're actually someone of importance in the Tevinter Imperium. If something happens to you, your empire would suffer greatly." He met Yao's gaze, his own expression predatory. "Yet here you are, proposing we use one another."

"This is too important to rely on a messenger. As you said yourself, you wouldn't have met with Tevinter if we had sent someone of no importance."

"And that is why I find you interesting." Basch glanced away for a second, arms crossed as he looked from the Wardens back to Yao. "Even if I wanted this alliance the nobles wouldn't agree to it. Your presence is not enough to merit an alliance." His arms fell to the side. "There is no trust."

Yao nodded. "I knew you wouldn't readily agree. What would you need of Tevinter- of _me _- to even open the grounds up for a discussion of an alliance with the nobles?"

At that question Yao caught the quick look Basch gave the Wardens. "You want to open the doors for discussion?" Basch smiled, and it was tight and humorless. "Deal with the slavers that have made Denerim their home."

Yao nodded, suddenly aware of the heavy gazes boring into his back. "I have spent enough time in this city to realize that slavers are a problem. Even if you hadn't asked me to rid your city of them, I would have proposed it." Yao smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Tevinter has no need for citizens who dabble in this field. It leaves a sour taste in ones mouth for all those involved."

"If you succeed in ridding this city of this plague, then I will call a Landsmeet." He looked at Yao, face impassive once more. "However, I make no promises that we will agree to an alliance. We were conquered once. And the scars and memories of that occupation are seldom forgotten."

oOo

**Landsmeet**: A council of the Fereldan noble class which has been held annually for almost three thousand years, only occasionally interrupted by war or foreign occupation. It brought together all the fractured Alamarri tribes. After the unification of the kingdom, it functions as the official legislative body for Ferelden, and can override the king or queen on any matter of law.

oOo

It was what he wanted, a chance to prove himself to the king. But part of Yao felt that he had somehow played right into the king's hand. It had been _too _easy. He had blamed the Wardens for the delay in meeting the king, but what if they too were nothing more than pawns?

* * *

><p>He wished he could say he was surprised. "You're alone."<p>

"No," Alfred said around a cocky smile. "Not anymore."

Ivan walked towards him, briefly closing his eyes as he stood before Alfred. "Maker's breath, Alfred, do you think this is a game?"

"No, I don't."

"Then why are you alone?"

"So we can talk," Alfred said through gritted teeth. "Something we haven't had time to do."

Ivan's voice was strong and cold as he said, "Then let's talk."

"You knew that there was something wrong with these wounds. They itch when you're not around."

Ivan didn't miss the accusatory tone. "I suspected there was something wrong with them, but I wasn't certain," he admitted. "You had numerous gashes, Alfred. Whatever that black ooze was, you were drenched in it. I tried healing you on my way back, and it did nothing."

Alfred shook his head, bitter laughter leaving his lips. "So you knew… you knew."

"It was a horrible mistake," Ivan said bluntly. "I should never have left you alone in the first place." He clenched his jaw. "That's why I told you to keep Elizabeta with you. But you know _nothing_ of self-preservation. What if something had happened to you? Who would help you then?"

"Myself!" Alfred shouted angrily. "You said there was another way, so what is it?" he pressed, breath hitching. "What is it?"

"You want to know?" Ivan questioned just as angrily. "Tell me, elf, what do you hate more than sleeping with me?" He loomed over Alfred, voice so cold that Alfred couldn't help but shiver. "Magic, Alfred. Your other choice is to accept what you are."

"Be a mage?" he said in a quiet voice.

Ivan turned away, breathing slowly as he tried to ground himself. He wanted to lash out at Alfred, berate him for not asking for help. For pushing him away, for simply not sleeping with him.

But it wasn't Alfred he was mad at. It was himself.

Human hubris had created the first demons; his own hubris had created this mess. Alfred's demon-tinged skin was a reminder of just how close he had come to losing the elf. A reminder of Ivan's failure.

"You're strong, Alfred," he turned back towards the elf. "You're also untrained. And that is a dangerous mix." He rubbed the middle of his forehead, eyes closed. This situation was a mess. There was no denying that he had been happy when he realized he would be too preoccupied to speak with Alfred.

"What about the Harrowing? I passed your test," Alfred said, clenching his teeth as he stood slowly, eyes ablaze as he walked the short distance to Ivan. "I passed it."

oOo

**The Circle of Magi**: The dominant organization for the training of mages within nations of Thedas. They are governed and monitored by the Chantry.

**Harrowing**: A secret rite of passage that the Circle administers, without warning, to adult apprentice mages. The ritual is analogous to a vaccination - the apprentice is exposed to a demon under controlled circumstances in order to prove that they are strong and willful enough to fight off an attempt at possession. If a mage fails this test, they become possessed by a demon and undergo a physical transformation and are immediately destroyed by the Templars monitoring them.

oOo

"All the Harrowing proved is that you are capable of fighting off possession. It does not mean that you are completely immune from temptation." Alfred's stare turned pained, and Ivan felt his chest tighten at the look. "Those who can tap into the raw energy of the Fade and block the temptations of demons are rare. That is what makes a mage powerful. Not strength or power, but the ability to focus. Emotions are dangerous for mages, just a bit of fear, lust, pride," he said pointedly, "is all a demon needs. They'll watch you, whisper temptations all around you until they're shouts. You either succumb or you break. But you already know that," he said.

oOo

**Fade**: Known by the Dalish as the Beyond, it is a metaphysical realm that is part of Thedas yet separated by the Veil. Every living being, with the exception of dwarves, enters the Fade mentally when they dream and mages tap into it when they cast spells. Demons and spirits reside in the Fade.

**Veil**: A metaphysical barrier between the mortal realm and the Fade. Neither spirits nor mortal beings can easily pass physically through the Veil, but the consciousness of mortal dreamers easily does so. The Veil is not an object; it cannot be touched or seen. It is a metaphor used by mortal scholars to explain the interactions between the two different realities.

oOo

Alfred's skin flushed at the remark. "And how would I go about controlling my emotions?"

"Practice. You would need to conjure spells and focus. When you tap into the Fade you use your emotions to fuel your magic." He licked his lips with cautious hope. "Emotions are a mages greatest strength, and their greatest weakness. That is your other option, Alfred."

It was only a second, but in that moment Ivan saw furious rage, numbing fear, and burning shame cross Alfred's face. It took Alfred a moment to recover, but even then slight tremors rocked his body. He walked away from Ivan only to change direction mid-stride, pacing about the room, a fist pressed to his mouth, his other arm wrapped across his stomach protectively.

Ivan said nothing as he watched him. What more could he say? This was something that Alfred had to decide. Ivan had decided enough for him.

Alfred's fist slamming onto the tabletop jarred Ivan from his thought. "If I decide to do this, be a mage, it would take time. I would still have to sleep with you, wouldn't I?" The stress in his voice audible.

"Yes," Ivan said. "But there is a silver lining. One day you'll be able to block the demons yourself." His voice lowered. "You won't need to sleep with me."

"What kind of choices are those?" Alfred hissed.

"The only ones you have."

He took a step towards Alfred and stopped. "I won't force you to choose, Alfred. This is your choice." He wanted to cradle Alfred's face, hold him close, and protect him from everything. But enough was enough.

"You're gonna let _me_ decide?" Alfred snorted. "Sure, I definitely believe that."

"Legally you are my slave, but I've already told you that to me you are my personal guard. If you are truly against anything I ask you to do I will not force you." Ivan walked towards Alfred, gaze never leaving Alfred's own bright eyes. "Men choose, Alfred. Slaves obey."

His face registered comprehension, and some fire came back into Alfred's eyes. "I'm no slave."

Ivan nodded, the pressure in his chest easing slightly. "Do you need time to decide?"

"No."

Now that was a surprise.

"I'm tired of surviving." Alfred's cheeks burned at the admission, eyes bright as his breathing hitched. "I want to live."

At once Ivan enveloped Alfred in his arms, eyes soft. Alfred buried his face into Ivan's chest, body rocking against him roughly. "I want to live," he repeated, voice choked with tears.

"You will. I will make sure of it," he said softly.

They stood like that for some time. Ivan had missed this. Missed holding Alfred, missed the feel of his body against his own. But this wasn't how he had imagined it happening. Never would he have thought that Alfred would agree to be trained in the arts of magic.

It spoke volumes of just how desperate Alfred was to free himself. His gaze from Alfred, a heavy weight settling in his chest. This was his mistake. Yao had warned him not to make Alfred go through the Harrowing, but he had chosen to ignore it.

And for a while it had been fine. If only he had been able to foresee this outcome. Alfred wasn't just another life, he was someone Ivan cared for. He had wormed himself into Ivan's life without even trying.

He was important.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, lowering his head onto Alfred's. His voice was warm and heavy as he held Alfred tightly. "I'm sorry."

* * *

><p>"So they're in the alienage?" Yao asked. "Do you know that for certain?"<p>

Francis nodded. "The king's been applying pressure in the alienage since your meeting with him. It seems that he was hoping the slavers would mess-up if they suspected that they were close to being caught. He was right," he answered. "The King wants us to handle the situation tonight." Some confusion must have showed on Yao's face because Francis added, "You didn't think the King would let you do this on your own, did you?"

The other Warden, the elf, looked at Yao with his arms crossed, his body leaning against the wall. Yao looked at them both but didn't answer. But it wasn't what they thought. Yao knew that the King wouldn't trust him with this event. And in truth, he would have acted just like King Basch had their roles been reversed. It was the fact that Yao would be working with the Wardens that came as a surprise. But now was not the moment to start a fight. It would be stupid and childish to do so, especially when he would be relying on their help.

Slavers usually meant blood magic. And Yao had only needed to be shown _once_ that blood mages were not something to be taken lightly. At least Francis had his training as a Templar to bring to the fight. It wasn't as if this forced union didn't have anything to be gained. "How did you find their base?" Yao asked instead.

Arthur answered, "They cocked-up." He tilted his head back, light illuminating the vallaslin on his skin, eyes closed. "They were rushing along the alienage, caught by surprise by the guards the King had stationed there. It seems they didn't have the time to hide their presence, which made following them all the more easy." Arthur's nose crinkled in distaste at his next words, "You could taste the corruption in the air. They had tried using magic to lore us away, much good that did. It only let us know for certain that their magic is soaked in blood." Arthur glanced at Yao. "Such corruption must cling to most Tevinter mages."

oOo

**Vallaslin**: Is what the Dalish call the intricate facial tattoos worn by all adult clan members. When a Dalish elf comes of age, they prepare to gain the vallaslin by meditating on the gods and the ways of the Dalish, and by purifying the body and the skin. When the time comes, the Keeper of the clan applies the blood writing. This is done in complete silence. Cries of pain are taken as signs of weakness. If a young elf cannot tolerate the pain of the blood writing, they are deemed unready to undertake the responsibilities of an adult.

oOo

Yao reigned in his frustration, only a slight smile greeting Arthur's words. "Blood magic is illegal. It has been for a very long time."

Arthur snorted. "Illegal?" he repeated. "You'd never guess it with how your country operates."

"I'm not here to prove anything to the Grey Wardens," Yao answered amicably. "I am here to show King Basch that the Tevinter Imperium means what it is proposing. There are no ulterior motives, despite what _you_ may think. This alliance… this relationship – whatever our two countries decide to call it – is _not_ a friendship. The King knows that. Tevinter knows that." Yao caught the look of indignation spreading across Arthur's face at each word and continued. "This will be an alliance based on gains, not friendship."

Francis interceded before Arthur could even open his mouth, playfully clasping Arthur on his shoulder. "And _we_ are here to oversee this situation." He smiled gently at Arthur. "If you keep this up, I may think you like him better than me." Arthur pushed Francis, who laughed lightly, but said nothing. "Why don't you go check on your brother?" Francis suggested.

"If you want me to leave just say so," Arthur said as he gazed hard at Yao before turning his attention back to Francis. "Don't bring my brother up again." He whispered more words to Francis, and Yao was certain that he could hear Arthur's words if he listened closely, but he found that he was tired of hearing the elven Wardens voice.

If Arthur's words were important then Francis would share them, if not, well, the better for himself.

Both men watched as Arthur turned and left the room, the door closing shut with a dull click. Francis laughed as he turned back to Yao. "Dalish," he simply said. And Yao found himself nodding with Francis' answer; he knew a Dalish elf with a stubborn streak as well.

"Look," Francis began, "I'm all for bickering and fighting, as well as the occasional drink, but if we are going to work together, then we should forgo the unnecessary fighting until later."

"I agree."

Francis clasped his hands in approval. "Good. Once this matter is attended to, we can go back to hating one another, just like the Maker intended." He smiled pleasantly at Yao, eyes twinkling with mirth. "I'll be the first to drink once this is over, I'd invite you but I think my friend may want to have some words with you first."

oOo

**Maker**: The entity worshipped by the Chantry.

**Chantry**: The dominant religious organization in Thedas.

oOo

Yao smiled and shook his head. If Francis' accent didn't give him away, then his actions certainly did. How like an Orlesian to glaze over the tactical aspect of the plan. "We're getting ahead of ourselves." Francis frowned lightly at the words. "We know where they're hiding, so what's our course of action? Or have you not come up with one yet?"

Francis smiled devilishly. "Planning has never been my strong suit. Now, killing...killing and love-making. Killing and love-making and witty retorts. Those I am better at." He leaned towards Yao, smile bright as he winked. "But I made an exception for you. Simply put we sneak in. The report stated that they saw three slavers, though I'm inclined to believe that there are more."

"More than likely," Yao agreed. "I doubt three slavers would be capable of kidnapping so many. Mage or not, to affect this community this greatly… there have to be more slavers involved."

At the mention of mages Francis bristled. Yao's skin prickled against the sudden tightness in the air. It pushed against him, and Yao fought the urge to push back. "If these Tevinters are surprised now, they're in for a greater treat when they see me." Francis smiled. "I don't believe that they ever anticipated having a Templar crash their party."

oOo

**Templar**: Armed with the ability to dispel and resist magic in addition to their formidable combat talents, the Templars are the first line of defense against the dark powers of blood mages and abominations.

oOo

Yao pushed back against the feeling, his skin tingling as healing magic danced around his flesh. The pressure in the air pulled at the magic, and Yao let it. He was far more interested in Francis' skills. "About that… just how is it that you're a Grey Warden? I highly doubt that the Divine would allow one of her soldiers to leave her personal army." He looked at Francis with a long hard look. "Come to think of it, I have never heard of anyone ever leaving the Templar Order. Aren't you sworn to an oath?"

oOo

**Divine**: The leader of the Chantry organization at large, based out of the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux. The Divine of the Chantry is always female. The Tevinter Imperium however, have their own Divine, who is a male as well as their own version of the Chantry; the Imperial Chantry.

oOo

Francis looked at Yao with a bemused grin. "If you're really interested, I can discuss the finer details of my enlistment with the Grey Wardens with you in my quarters."

Yao flushed lightly. "That's alright. It was simple curiosity, I assure you." And it was curiosity. When he returned back home to the Imperium he would have to ask Ivan to look into this matter for him. While Francis was clearly from the Orlesian branch of the Grey Wardens, that didn't mean he wasn't required to keep contact with the main headquarters of the organization. And unlike himself, Ivan was actually on very good terms with Berwald, the leader of all the Grey Wardens. "Do you have a backup plan in case a Templar doesn't come as a surprise?"

Francis crossed his arms. "Mages fear Templars."

"They do," Yao agreed. "In Ferelden and most of Thedas Templars are feared. But these mages are from Tevinter. And Templars are not feared there. These mages haven't gone unnoticed because of luck. It takes an enormous amount of skill and ability to remain unnoticed by _two_ countries. I don't doubt that these slavers have squared off against Templars before. And seeing as they're still operating, I believe it is safe to assume that they are well equipped to fight against your imposing Templar might."

"Well then… we can always use our mages against their mages. Arthur is nothing to be trifled with. He may be from Ferelden but there is no doubt that he carries the blood of the Dalish."

"He's a mage?" Francis nodded. "You'd never guess by his opinions on magic." Opinions that were reminiscent of those that belonged to another Dalish elf he knew.

Francis looked at Yao dubiously. "You don't actually expect mages outside of Tevinter to agree with your type of magic, do you?"

"Just how misinformed about the Tevinter Imperium are you?" Yao shook his head. "Even _we_ have laws regarding magic."

* * *

><p>Evening arrived without much incident. Yao had been unable to contact Yong Soo, though that hadn't come as a shock. When his little brother actively avoided <em>him<em>, well, there wasn't much he could do, but wait.

Yong Soo's avoidance was probably for the best – as much as Yao was confused by the action. This wasn't the first time he had angered his little brother. But what had he done to anger him this time?

There was a reason – a real reason – as to why he had sent his brothers and sisters away from the Imperium. Yet even here, so very far away from home, it seemed that his family wasn't any safer.

"What building is this?" Yao asked.

"Healers," Arthur clicked his tongue. "Clever bastards."

Yao nodded in agreeance. "Was there an illness around when the missing where being reported?"

Francis answered. "If there was it wasn't documented."

"Typical humans," Arthur scoffed. Francis looked at him softly but didn't respond.

They had tried acting inconspicuous, they really had, but the alienage was a virtual ghost town. No sooner had the light of the sun disappeared that people began closing shop and fleeing to the safety of their homes. When they had entered the alienage the only other life they had seen were the guards patrolling the area. No elves save for Arthur walked the streets.

"Two humans and an elf," Yao muttered as he watched Francis work. "Nothing like blending in."

Francis smiled up at him, lock pick in hand. "We'd stand out either way. Me the handsome Orlesian, you the exotic beauty," he twisted the pick and gently smiled as he heard a dull click, "and him," he jabbed a thumb back to Arthur, "the disgruntled Dalish." He turned back, a wide smile as he eyed Arthur. "Now, let's go."

Francis walked before Yao, shield and sword drawn. Light thuds filling the silence with each step of his iron-clad boots. Yao entered much more subtly, not even disturbing the dust that Francis had managed to leave behind. Arthur followed suit and, unlike Yao, he was also physically armed.

It was an old wooden staff. Impressions of where previous owners had wielded the staff imbedded its body. Rows of sigils glowed dimly at the top. The markings matching no language Yao knew of.

Possibly a Dalish heirloom, Yao mused. It would explain the numerous grooves on the body of the staff. It seemed to radiate a power all its own.

Yao looked down at his bare hands. Staffs were good for two things: enhancing ones strength, and giving a mage a focus. Which was why so many mages wielded staffs. Focus was not a skill so easily learned.

Even he sometimes struggled with it.

But it was a skill that he needed to master. Creatures from the Fade were instinctively attracted to him. The spirit entity that watched over him was proof of that. If he hadn't learned how to wield his power – control his very being – well, Yao had no doubt that he would not be there, in Ferelden.

Yao pushed a gust of power to his eyes, his body pulsing at the surge of magic. Francis stopped, looking over his shoulder at Yao. "They're mages. Unless they are _very_ well trained I doubt they will notice my presence," Yao assured.

It may have been the darkness of the healer's building, but Francis' gaze looked harsh. "Tone it down," he said as his attention was directed back towards the room. "You look like you're on the verge of possession."

The rooms were dusty, desks and beds obviously seeing better days. Grime clung to the panels of the windows, the rust-laden latches keeping the windows shut more out of force than choice.

Yao shook his head as he looked over the medical cabinet. Jars lined the shelves: elf root, salves, and poultices, he reached for a nameless jar. "Lyrium potion?" It wasn't labeled, but there was no mistaking the luminescent blue glow within.

A soft intake of breath made him look back, Arthur's green eyes greeting his own. When had he gotten so close? "Why would they have lyrium potions here? I highly doubt that they had _actual_ mage healers here. Humans wouldn't care enough to send a healer."

"So then it was actually for them. The slavers," Francis clarified.

Yao nodded. "So it would seem."

He placed down the jar, his gaze slowly taking in every minute detail on the medical cabinet. If the slavers had been so brazen as to leave something this important out in plain view, then what else could they have let out carelessly? Yao's amber gaze trailed along each scratch on the subpar wood and thick layers of dust lining the shelf. A few jars held light scuff marks, the more heavily used jars were littered with smudge marks.

Yao crouched down, randomly grabbing a jar from the bottom left shelf. Fine dust coated the jar, clinging to his bare skin. His magic infused eyes took in _every_ detail, no matter how minuscule. He looked intently at the dust on his skin, finding dirt, skin, hair, bugs… feces. Yao abruptly placed the jar down, wiping his hand against his leg.

The abrupt placement was too much for the old shelf, vials shifting and tittering on one another. Yao reached out too late, but Arthur who had stayed near him, caught the only vial to fall. "Careful!" Arthur hissed.

"Good catch."

Arthur scowled at the remark. He stood back up bringing the vial closer to his eyes. "What is this?"

Yao crouched lower, moving the larger jars in front. In the back more vials stood, the area surrounding them clearly cleaner than the rest of the shelves. He stood once Arthur backed away from him.

"Here," Arthur said as he handed the vial to Yao. "Look familiar?"

Yao looked at him quizzically. "Should it?"

"You're the one from Tevinter."

"No. It doesn't look familiar," Yao bit back. He looked down at the vial, an eerily yellow liquid filled the vial to the brim, fine crystals floating in the concoction. "I see bits of elf root, and some red flowers clinging to the bottom… probably embrium."He looked at the mixture contemplatively. "It looks like a drought of elfroot, but…" his eyes glowed deeper as he shook the vial, but the mixture didn't budge. Yao looked at it carefully, weighing the odds of uncorking it. In the end, his curiosity won. "You should move," he advised Arthur.

"If you think it's dangerous, then I should stay where I am." At Yao's look of confusion he added, "Can't have your empire claiming that I didn't try to help you in case something does happen. I won't be blamed for your death."

Yao looked at him, before shaking his head in disbelief. He uncorked the vial, taking an appraising sniff. He pulled away immediately, the magic in his eyes draining away at once. "Deathroot. Not enough to be lethal, but it's definitely there." Yao pinched the bridge to his nose. "Maker, there's not even enough to be noticeable unless you're _really_ looking."

It made sense. How else would these slavers be able to transport so many captives? Elves weren't known for their docility. The vial in his hand was the only clean object in the cabinet – probably the only clean object in the whole building. Clean because it was the _only_ potion that any of the elves were being given. "They used this – this poison in the name of healing," Yao said disdainfully. "The deathroot was there to cause hallucinations and the elfroot was to ensure that none were wiser to what it was they were actually ingesting. It would weaken them, make them see things that weren't there, give the slavers a reason to keep otherwise healthy elves overnight."

Yao griped the vial tightly. It shouldn't have surprised him. If anything it was something that he should have assumed they were doing – using potions and tonics to weaken their captives. But to disguise themselves as healers in their ruse… it was an insult. One that he took personal.

Francis looked at Yao, confusion laced in his voice, "They're poisoning the elves?" He shook his head, blue gaze back to scanning the room. "And here I thought they wanted healthy elves."

"It's not enough to cause permanent damage. Just enough to subdue."

"You sound surprised," came Arthur's voice. "Did you really expect the slavers to act otherwise? All of this is nothing more than business to them," he said simply, a tinge of bitterness in his voice. "They're not above abduction and using drugs and certainly not above using blood magic. And here I thought that if anyone of us should understand this, it would be you."

Yao bristled at the remark, eyes narrowing at Arthur. The elf simply rubbed him the wrong way. Everything about him aggravated Yao, yet nothing set his blood boiling more than the moment Arthur would open his mouth. Yes, the Tevinter Imperium had its share of problems.

But it was not the only one.

He clenched his hand, pushing his anger back until it was manageable once again. Only fools couldn't control their tongue. And Yao knew that to be the truth – he'd seen countless Magisters prove it. "Tevinter isn't the only nation that has trouble with equality," Yao began. "Look where we are. This is an alienage – a haven for _elves_. From humans. The Imperium may have slavery, but we don't hide behind a mask about it. You speak of equality when Ferelden, Orlais, Antiva, all these nations have a need for alienages." As an afterthought Yao added, "Is this really an appropriate place to be having this discussion?"

"I agree. Arthur, as much as I love seeing you get worked up this isn't the place or time. You can have this pissing match later. Preferably when there are _no_ hostages and mages to worry about." At Francis' words, Arthur flushed in indignation. "Besides," Francis said as he walked further into the next room, "the Grey Wardens are the only group known for true equality." He looked back over his shoulder at Yao and winked.

Arthur muttered a few choice words at Francis' retreating form, a string of Elvish filling the air as he followed Francis. Somehow it wasn't much of a surprise to Yao that the two bickered. Arthur may be Dalish but he was still from Ferelden, and both Orlais and Ferelden had a none- too-subtle hatred for one another.

All three wasted no time scouring the first floor, finding overly-worn cots and thick sprigs of elfroot hanging from the walls. Bowels of dried medicinal herbs laid about tables, no doubt at one point actually being used for their intended purposes. Nothing looked amiss, that is, except for one thing: where were the elves?

They met before the stairs, Francis taking the first steps to the second floor, hand hovering over the hilt of his sword. Despite the carefree smile he wore, there was a hard edge to his eyes. Yao clicked his tongue lightly, the taint of corruption clinging to the air. Yao reached within, a shiver passing through his veins, as he griped at the tangle of raw energy within himself. His fingers tingled as magic pulsed within his palms.

Yao slowed his pace, his back burning as he felt Arthur's gaze locked intently onto himself. And, despite himself, Yao looked back over his shoulder. He had dealt with people like Arthur before. Those who lumped him with every vagrant and criminal that came out of Tevinter. He was used to it. But something about _this_ particular elf judging him had his anger seething.

And he didn't understand why.

The second floor was a single large room with one door, and just liked the first floor it was lined with herbal medicines and cots. The door to the north of the stairs had clearly seen better days.

"Be careful," Francis breathed out, walking towards the door.

"If anyone should be offering that advice it should be me," Arthur bit back.

Francis waved off the comment, slowly creeping towards the closed door. He entered the room with his silver shield out before him, a sharp intake of breath the only warning before the door slammed shut of its accord. The noise harsher than it should have been.

Arthur rushed past Yao, forcefully turning the knob. "Francis!" he called out, slamming his fist against the door as the energy in the air shifted. The door didn't so much as rattle at his attack.

There was a tightness in the air, one that prickled against Yao's flesh, his fingers twitched at the feel, magic flowing much more loosely in his palms. It didn't take a genius to know that whatever Francis was facing was a dangerous enough opponent that it was forcing him to use his Templar skills.

The scent of fresh, tangy copper had Yao acting on instinct. A mass of swirling energy gathering in his palms, pulsing as Yao outstretched his hand, small spikes of lightning cackling from the palm of his hand to his fingers. Just as his fingers hovered over the wooden door he stopped, something in the back of his mind nagging him.

Something wasn't right.

Yao spun around, thrusting his right arm out, a solid mass greeting the lightning strike from Yao's open palm. The demon flew back from Yao, the stench of scorched flesh filling the room as the demon slowly recovered. "He'll be fine, Arthur." Yao didn't turn around, his gaze firmly on the monstrosity already gliding back towards him. "He has training as a Templar. We should give him some credit."

Yao felt more than heard Arthur turn away from him, the hair at the back of Yao's neck stood as Arthur cursed. "There are more," Arthur hissed, gripping his staff as he ran off towards the other end of the room. Yao looked at the creature before him, pushing more magic then he generally would into his attack. The air in the room filled with static, a quiet cackle of lightning flickered from Yao's fingers.

The room shook as elvish shouts filled the air.

Calm and collected, Yao stood. Sparks branching away from his prone form.

Yao watched the creature keenly, its slimy, ebony body hunched over itself, muscular arms much longer than its body, its legs covered in a fog of venomous plumes of violet. The very ground groaned beneath the creatures mass, the wooden planks threatening to give way.

"A Shade," Yao whispered.

A creature of the Fade. A demon. What had happened here? How had the veil become thin _here_?

oOo

**Fade**: Known by the Dalish as the Beyond, it is a metaphysical realm that is part of Thedas yet separated by the Veil. Every living being, with the exception of dwarves, enters the Fade mentally when they dream and mages tap into it when they cast spells. Most people do not remember their time in the Fade, but mages are forced to recall. Killing a mortal dreaming in the Fade is a shock to their living bodies, but not lethal. The person merely wakes up. Demons and spirits reside in the Fade.

**Veil**: A metaphysical barrier between the mortal realm and the Fade. Neither spirits nor mortal beings can easily pass physically through the Veil, but the consciousness of mortal dreamers easily does so. The Veil is not an object; it cannot be touched or seen. It is a metaphor used by mortal scholars to explain the interactions between the two different realities.

oOo

Places like this, Yao knew them well. Tevinter was burdened with them. Battlefields, valleys, whole villages, and cities left abandoned. Unlivable due to their corruption.

Demons dwelled there. And what remained of slain mortals. Their hatred fueling their rage, warping their souls until they resembled nothing of their former selves. In the end they were no different than a demon.

The shade snarled, its long, armored arms pushed to its side as it disappeared in a cloud of fumes. In the blink of an eye Yao pressed his open palms out, a blast of electricized energy dancing around Yao, forming a shield around his form just as a snarl reverberated off his barrier. It pushed itself back, black ooze dripping from what Yao ventured were its mangled lips.

It stared Yao down before lunging forward, its large arms falling with bone-crunching strength as it attacked the barrier. With each swipe fragments formed on the translucent barrier.

Yao stepped back, with each step he eyed the demon down. Its feral gaze was one that Yao had faced before. It was one that he absolutely _loathed_.

This type of demon knew nothing but a craving of flesh. It lived for no other reason than to harm, its hunger insatiable. Its need for the lives of others pushing it on. Catching living, breathing men and women and children with illusions until they were too far gone to save themselves. These demons had taken so many. Making orphans of those who had survived, hidden away by their loved ones. Saved and abandoned all at once.

Just like Kiku and Yong Soo. And he would be damned if he would be the one to cause Yong Soo to relive that pain.

His hand was held out firmly before him, veins visible on Yao's outstretched hand and arm as he pulled against the wall to his left, a great deal of magic gathering around the wall. The barrier fell and the demon glided forth, eyes glimmering as they beckoned Yao to believe its sweeten-laden illusions.

It reached out, ooze dripping from it curled fist, as the building shook.

A large slab of stone flew towards the looming demon, pinning the creature against the wall.

Save but for the spluttered snarls and scraping of nails, silence was all Yao could hear. The creature's arms clawed at the stone, chunks breaking off with its every attempt at freedom.

A quiet rage gripped Yao, and for a second – _just_ a second he saw red.

Yao reached out, his hold on the chunk of stone still tight, and with a swipe of his arm the demon cried in anguish. An audible snap rang across the room as a heavy _thump_ followed. Blood, like oil, spilled from where its arm had once been. Its blood bubbled as it spilled, the scent of decay polluting the stagnant air.

"_This_," Yao hissed, "is all that awaits you here. You will pay for every family you have torn apart, every life you have robbed. I'll see to it, demon."

Yao put pressure on the stone, a pulse of magic so strong it tore not only the demon's remaining arm, but the wall behind the demon's very back.

"Watch what you're doing!" Arthur shouted, staff glowing. "You'll take down the whole bloody building!"

Yao nodded, though he knew that more than likely Arthur would be unable to see it. He stalked towards the demon, its viscous like blood clinging to his boots as if to immobilize him.

"Your kind have no future here. Not in Ferelden and certainly not in Tevinter," Yao hissed as he raised his hand. His hand shook with what he could only assume was rage. Raw and terrifying, an intangible pulse of sheer fury – a feeling that had become so foreign to him.

And he embraced it.

Yao swiped his hand forward. A sickening pop filled the room as the stone was pressed tightly against the demon. It was not a cry of anguish that left the creature's lips, nor a roar of defeat. It was a gurgling of blood, the demons lungs filled with nothing else but its own fluids. The sound brought back bitter memories.

All at once Yao regretted acting on his anger.

A bitter loathing – or was it disgust? – descended on him. He released his hold on the stone, turning away from what remained of the creature. A slow throb of pain, one that he knew all too well, pulled at his attention.

He fought the itch to rub his back. It was old, but it would always be a fresh, gaping wound to him. It was a betrayal that could not be forgotten in this life, and one that could never be forgiven. Time did not heal all wounds.

Yao turned to Arthur, slightly perturbed to find that the elf had been watching him. The demon stood rigid in front of Arthur, thick vines wrapped around its prone form, blood pooling around the ground, as if nourishing the very carnivores-plant that had led to its death.

Yao met Arthur's gaze for a second before the elf turned away, walking towards the door that housed the other Warden.

"Francis," he called out, indecisiveness clear in his stance. Though, Yao noted, there was an uneasiness in his tone. "I know you are incompetent in many things, but I was under the belief that demons were something even you could handle." Arthur paused, visible hesitation replacing the permanent scowl he always seemed to wear. "Or is this how all Orlesians act? All bravado and talk?"

It was laughter, though muddled, that broke the silence. The door opened slowly, revealing Francis in all his living glory. "Now, now, Arthur. There's no need for that. I just found something much more interesting in here." Francis motioned behind him, red blood coating his once pristine armor and hair. "Though nothing holds my interest more than you. Surely you know that by now."

"I take it wasn't a demon you found?" Yao interjected, hoping to leave the room as quickly as possible. The once dull ache was truly trying his patience.

Francis nodded. "It seems we have might have more abominations to contend with as well." All traces of laughter and flirtatious smiles were gone. "She didn't want to talk, but Templars have ways of getting what they need. They left her and another person behind. She said that the other mage is in the basement. She changed into an abomination before I could get any more information."

oOo

**Abomination**: Regardless of the reason, a demon always attempts to possess a mage when it encounters one—by force or by making some kind of deal depending on the strength of the mage. Should the demon get the upper hand, the result is an unholy union known as an abomination.

oOo

"So they just got the elves and left?" Arthur questioned.

Francis crossed his arms. "Not all of them."

Silence followed the remark, broken only by Arthur's voice. "Then where are they?"

"The other mage," Yao said plainly, his right hand twitching. "They're with the other mage. If they knew we were coming than he has them."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Sacrifices," he breathed out.

No one said a thing. What could be said of the truth?

Francis sighed as he ran his hand through his hair, blood coating his gloved hand. He looked about the room, his gaze lingering much longer on the demon Yao had slain. Though that wasn't much of a surprise. Yao knew that his method had been messy, he had even prolonged the fight to inflict more pain. He knew what it looked like.

It looked personal.

He rubbed his back.

"We should look for the other mage," Yao offered. Francis nodded, though he looked at Yao openly before walking downstairs, curses filling the air as he picked remnants of the abomination from his hair. Well, there wasn't a need for stealth; the other slaver knew they were there, after all. Arthur looked at Yao's hand, his heavy gaze burrowing into Yao's back, but if he suspected something he said nothing. Instead he followed Francis' lead.

Yao's hand lingered on his back just a second more, before he too followed.

They started down the basement together, the air growing colder as they went. The walls lacked stone, and every so often Yao would see indentations of hands on the clay wall. The air smelled of mildew and rot. With each step Yao became increasingly aware of just how loud their breathing and movements sounded in the oppressive silence.

The stairway ended at an old door.

They stood before the remaining door, Francis reached for the knob, but Yao placed his hand on top of Francis. "I believe it would be best if I proceed first."

Though it seemed Francis wanted to argue against Yao's choice he nodded nonetheless. He glanced from the door to Yao and backed away. "Well," he began. "I suppose this will finally allow me to see this power of yours." He smiled. "The one that I should be fearful of."

Strings of spells fell from Yao's lips, various protection spells wrapping about Yao's form. He had faced abominations and blood mages before. Not all fights were easy. They seldom were when they involved something so unnatural. Blood mages could never be trusted.

Not even when they smiled and called themselves your brother.

Yao rested his hand against the door. "Do not act until I say." He opened the door, and the familiar stench of sickly-sweet blood filled the air.

"I am Yao Wang, Healer of the Court of the Tevinter Imperium. Your presence is an act of aggression against Ferelden. Lay down your weapons and state your intentions."

"What are you doing?" Francis interjected. "A scolding isn't going to do a thing!"

Unperturbed, Yao continued. "If you fail to comply, we shall have no choice but to use deadly force. I shall give you only _one_ chance," he paused. "Surrender now."

The solidified spear of ice that flew past Yao came as no surprise. He hadn't actually expected a verbal response. Amber eyes flicked from the embedded shard of ice back to the room. "So be it."

Yao entered the room and when no sounds of chaos where heard, Francis and Arthur ventured in themselves. The smell of waste and unwashed bodies rolled out of the room.

Thrown about the floor laid half a dozen elves. The slow rise of their chest was the only indication that they lived. They wore steel cuffs far too tight on their skin. Their clothing had been torn and was covered in a number of splotches. What skin that showed was marred in bruises and filth.

Arthur's gasp had Yao turning to look at what had surprised him.

Children.

Two children who looked _sick_, buried beneath a number of other bodies. This mage was going to pay. Someone was going to answer for this. Even monsters had to draw a line somewhere.

Yao felt his hand shaking in rage, and forced himself to push it aside and focus. But one look at an unconscious face had Yao's blood running cold. Panic replaced his rage.

Yao felt Francis' gaze linger on him, and he thanked the Maker that he had practiced his mask of cool indifference down to a skill because it wasn't the blood mage who had him in a panic. It was the single human among the elves that had him rooted. The human that lay heavily on the floor.

Motionless.

Francis nudged him on his side. "The elves."

Yao nodded, the words not truly registering. Yes. The elves. He was there for the elves. But Yong Soo was not an elf… and he was not moving.

Rage. A slow burning rage that had been ingrained into him as a child overtook him. "Release them," Yao snarled, right arm extended as his gaze ripped away from the prone form of his young brother to the one who had harmed him.

The man eyed Yao down, a gleam in his dark blue eyes as he smiled knowingly at Yao. He wore a dark red cloak loosely, the garment giving the effect of spilled blood. Thick black gloves covered his hands, a simple silver bracer on either arm. His brown hair was pulled back in a tight braid that fell over his right shoulder.

The slaver laughed, light wrinkles forming on tan skin, his gaze cruel as he walked the short few steps towards the unconscious elves. They made no movement. Not the elves. Not Yong Soo. "You shouldn't worry about them. I do hate when they are too… rambunctious." He grinned playfully. "Do you like them? I left them behind just for you."

Yao hardened his gaze. "For me?"

His blue eyes glimmered. "Yes." The man smiled, grin far too wide. "The Healer of the Court. The Archon's valued advisor. Imagine my surprise when I heard that you would be visiting Denerim. I couldn't very well miss my chance to meet such a highly esteemed individual."

"And you are?"

"Ah," he waived his hand dismissively, "unnecessary details." He tilted his head, lips pursed thoughtfully. "I've heard so much about you. Though I must admit that you exceed my expectations. So rarely does one live up to their fame."

"Then you must know how I feel about your kind." Ire and contempt rang in every word. "To sell children… I suppose that's why they call your kind monsters."

"Oh," he smiled largely, teeth exposed. "I know exactly how you feel about my kind." He leaned forward slightly, gaze never wavering from Yao. "And so did Kiku."

"Don't you **dare**," lightning cackled, "utter that name again."

"Ah, yes, of course." His laughed arrogantly. "My condolences on his passing." Yao clenched his fist. "Though I'm certain it's not his death you're angry about. You certainly didn't raise an objection when his execution was ordered." He paused, watching Yao intently. "You even took it upon yourself to end his life. Your own brother." He tsked. "You speak of unforgivable actions, crimes against the natural order, but your crime is no different._ You_ betrayed your brother. _You_ turned against a child. _You_ turned against the natural instinct to protect your own. Should your crime go unpunished?"

"I carried out the duty that was given to me. No one, not even family, is exempt from justice. He_ knew_ that," Yao said, voice devoid of emotion.

The slaver shook his head, amusement evident in his voice. "Ever the loyal subject. Now I see why the Archon sent you. Tell me, did you impress their King? He must have been pleased to see the Archons obedient mutt. Did you beg for him? Roll over and bare your throat?"

A raging gust of wind rushing past him had Yao glancing to the elf at his side. With a simple flick of his hand the slaver had the raging wind dissipate before him.

"Do you enjoy hearing your own voice?" Arthur asked, annoyance laced in each word. "I don't know – or care, for that matter – about whatever petty hatred you have for this one," he nodded towards Yao. "_I_ did not come here for that. I came for them."

"For them?" the slaver repeated, glancing at the still elves. He laughed, eyes crinkled like half-moons as he brought his attention back to Arthur's scowling face. "You misunderstand, elf." His gaze moved leisurely from Arthur to Yao. "Just like you, I have a duty. And I, too, intend to follow it."

Yao inhaled and an elf was before the slaver, a dagger pressed effortlessly into unresponsive flesh, blood spilling as Yao exhaled. It had only taken a few seconds. A life was ended in what little time it had taken Yao to breathe.

Lightning flew towards the slaver, yet he stood motionless, a pleased expression on his face as he welcomed the attack.

"Is that all?" He asked with a deep gratified sigh, standing unscathed. The same, Yao noted, could not be said for the elf that had been carelessly dropped to the floor by the slaver. Lightning crawled about her prone form, her body contorted grotesquely from the attack.

Yao's hands fell to his side as Arthur charged past him, immediately jumping back, staff glowing red as he held it overhead, deflecting flames.

"It would be in your best interest to keep your elf back, Healer."

"Arthur…"

"No," Arthur pushed Francis' hand away. "Do you want me to stay back and do nothing? Let him kill another? She had every right to live." He looked at the slaver with an unnatural stillness, his mouth twisted. "That elf could have been my brother. And you want me to _wait_?"

Francis breathing hitched for a second, a pained look in his usual boisterous face. "You," Francis growled, taking a heavy step towards the slaver, "do not get to hurt those I care about."

Francis bore down on the slaver, quickly closing the distance between them in a few strides. Each strike was met with barrier after barrier, the slaver's smile growing with each attack.

The slaver sidestepped a rather heavy blow, hands glowing bright as Francis recovered. Orbs of intense yellow light flew towards Francis, who deflected each with a bash against his shield.

A glimmer of satisfaction was the only warning Francis received before a table rammed into his side, body violently thrown against the wall.

Arthur looked from Francis form to the one who had injured him, stepping towards the slaver only to step back. Yao had no such qualms, veins prominent on his skin, as he waved his hand down. Air sliced through the room, meeting the slaver's flames.

Yao stepped back, eyes widening as the flames grew, overtaking his attack and growing. At once he raised a barrier - glancing back to know for certain that Arthur was protected as well.

Flame cascaded around them and, despite the barrier, Yao could feel the heat from the attack. Eyes watering, he turned his head back to Arthur. The elf seemed to be faring just the same. He inched towards Yao slowly, eyes squinted tightly. Yao's back pressed against Arthur, another blast of scorching flames pushing against the barrier.

"It's the blood," Yao said, nose wrinkling in disgust. "These types of flames shouldn't be this strong." He looked back at the flames, brows drawn together as the flames fell from the barrier, encircling both Arthur and himself.

"How many do you think he sacrificed? This bloody bastard is going to regret ever stepping foot in this alienage. " Even surrounded by flames Yao could feel the iciness radiating from each word. "We're surrounded in flames. And he has a handful of elves out there with him."

Flames licked at the barrier, tendrils reaching towards them. The slaver had stopped his barrage, instead he watched Yao with a gleam in his eyes. Still, Yao kept the barrier up, his jaw set.

"You're not a fair man are you, Healer?" The slaver asked, shaking his head in disappointment. "It would seem that you don't live up to all your fame." He clasped his hands, posture relaxed as he watched the flames lick hungrily against the barrier. "Why don't we make this more… _fun_," he said loudly, voice full of bluster.

The barrier dropped once the words left the slavers lips. Air wrapped around Yao's form as he took a step forward, hair whipping around wildly as Yao exhaled. Flames fought wildly to remain alight around the pair - Arthur cursed as he dug his staff into the ground, fighting against the heavy gust of wind pushing him towards the flickering flames.

Yao's lips pressed flat as he watched the way the slaver looked from the elves to his own hand, a smile growing as he met Yao's gaze.

"Fun," he mouthed silently, as blood poured from the open self-inflicted wound on his palm.

Yao was out of the circle of flames the moment he realized what was happening. Flames burned at his clothes, his skin, and his hair, yet it all went unnoticed. He couldn't allow this.

But he had.

Yao shivered as he heard the sweet calls of the siren, skin crawling in disgust. "A desire demon." Yao planted his feet wide apart, eyes narrowing at the sickly lustful gaze of the full-figured creature. It floated in the air with ease, lavender flesh exposed shamelessly, safe for a simple deep-ruby loin cloth that hung from its hips suggestively. An intricate golden necklace adorned its long, slender neck, two chains fell away from the necklace, connecting to two golden tassels that adorned its full breast.

Horns hung where its eyebrows should be, magenta eyes glowing hypnotically. "I know your tricks," Yao said evenly. "Don't believe that you can tempt _me_, demon."

"She won't," the slaver said, stepping before the demon. His dark blue eyes flicked to Arthur and Francis pointedly. "I brought her for your friends."

The demon disappeared, its laughter ringing in the air as it reappeared in front of a sluggish Francis. Yao took a step towards Francis, a shard of ice stopping him.

"Ah," the slaver said disapprovingly, shaking his head. "I have waited a very long time to meet you. I won't have your friends interrupting this." He paced before Yao, chin up as he observed him. "I'm honestly surprised that you've been able to hold your position for so long," he said at last. "Anyone with an ounce of sense could tell the difference between you and I, and yet all these Fereldaners see when presented by a Tevinter mage is the same. Fear and loathing.

"Do you know what it is I see when I look at you? A coward," he snarled. "You have power and fear using it. _I_ have no such qualms."

"You are not using the power you've been given. It's using you."

"See?" He smiled. "Another difference. Using me? I am using _it_. This power is going to make the world right."

"Right?" Yao narrowed his eyes. "So that gives you the right to kidnap? To Murder?"

"Necessary sacrifices."

Yao's stomach lurched, a chill passing through him. It was the way the slaver had said it, so matter-of-factly, so calmly, so damn _sure_ of himself.

There was nothing more dangerous than a man who could see no fault in his actions. Every death was justifiable. Every atrocity forgivable. There was no doubt in him. His way was right. Only madmen and fools could know such certainty. And this slaver struck him as no fool.

Yao looked at the slaver, and it was some time before he spoke in a quiet voice. "Their deaths are not necessary. No wondrous world can be built on that belief. Look at the empire – at our _home_. We've had war waged on us because men like you only see slaves. Expendable lives." Outside the air cackled with thunder. "I don't like what you are. What you represent. The power you were given is using you."

"You say that, but any man with an ounce of sense can see why this is bullshit. Our glorious Imperium was founded on blood magic. Nations bowed to us. We were _feared_." His mouth twisted, a sour expression growing. "Look what your dismissal of such a potent power has done to us. Outside its walls Tevinter is mocked. The people of Thedas no longer cower at our name. Oh, no, instead they wait for our demise. Blood magic is our future. We were founded on it, and we will prosper with it. Your brother understood that."

"Is this what prosperity looks like to you? You are taking the freedom from those you have no right to. Taking them from their homes, their families. And for what? So that men like you can use them as they please?" Yao's eye's darkened and anger touched his voice. It was a cold thing that lined his words in frost. "If my brother thought as you do, than he deserved his death."

"Is that right?" The slaver kept his eyes on Yao, hands clenching at his side. "It seems that your love is conditional, Healer. Had he been my brother I would have protected him until the end."

"I did protect him." Yao's fingertips tingled. "I protected him from a harsher fate. The senate would have ordered a public execution. They would have drawn out his pain. I choose to end it with my own hands, were the only people present were him and me. Sometimes the only choices you have are bad ones, but you still have to choose." The air buzzed around Yao. "I stand by my choice."

_He was so young. A little thing just sitting there in the woods. Eyes so large and innocent. Was he lost?_

"And now we face the consequences."

_A young boy stood where the toddler once sat. So quiet and reserved, eyes no longer inquisitive. No longer in awe of his older brother._

The slaver dashed forward, only to be pushed back by a pulse of raw energy emanating from Yao.

_Yao looked at the empty room, ears still ringing from the quiet declaration._

"Merde! Don't forget you have allies here!" Francis shouted, as he narrowly avoided the attack.

'_You are not my brother.'_

Yao stalked towards the slaver, face eerily blank as he raised his right hand before him - the slaver rose from the ground – and swung his hand down. Hard.

The slaver hit the ground with a loud crunch, the ground splintering around his form. He smiled as he rose from the ground, blood running down his face. He flicked his left hand before himself, a gust of air doing little more than pushing against Yao.

Yao launched himself towards the slaver, a strong gust propelling him forward.

The slaver jumped back, deflecting a volley of lightning. Fire erupted from the slavers hand, a long tongue of fire reaching for Yao and, had it not been for Yao's barrier, it would have hit him.

Yao swung his hand heavily in front of him – two chairs flew across the room. It would do no harm, but Yao needed a distraction.

With his right hand outstretched Yao loomed over the slaver, veins protruding as lightning wrapped itself tightly against Yao's hand, the element melding against his flesh, solidifying into an intricate blade. Yao grasped the golden hilt tightly, the blade cackled in his grasp, each edge of the bolt like sword sharp.

Thunder clashed with each strike, every hit meeting resistance from the slaver. Still Yao bore down, eyes flashing as a gale of wind struck the slaver from the side. The slaver dropped the barrier, eyes wide. Yao jumped forward, blade high in the air as he prepared to strike.

"Arthur that is not your brother!"

Yao's face turned ashen at the shout, body stilling. He turned jarringly towards Francis, muscles rigid as he watched Arthur stand before the injured demon.

Protecting it.

"Don't you _dare_ lay a finger on him," Arthur growled out, baring his teeth. "I have spent this life searching for him. I will not lose him again. Not to slavers… and not to you."

"Abelas, Arthur," the creature whispered, grin growing as Arthur shook in rage, eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Ma halam. Ar tu na'di –"

Yao stumbled back, sword dispersing, as he cradled his face, momentarily stunned by the hard punch. "Am I boring you, Healer?" A ghost of a smile graced his face. "Here, let me liven things up. This," his eyes burned bright, "is what power men can wield when they do not fear."

The floor shook beneath Yao, a ringing in his ears as he fought for balance. He grunted with effort, every limb a burden to move. As the floorboards groaned beneath him Yao gritted his teeth, breathing shallow and labored as pressure grew all around him.

With narrowed eyes and a tight mouth Yao fought against the pressure, his chest tightening as he attacked, gales of wind shooting after the slaver, lightning trailing after the wind.

The slaver smiled, amusement growing with each deflection. Yao growled as he clenched his fist, it cackled once before his fist connected against the ground. The wooden floor splintered as lightning tore through the old floorboards, an electric wave rushing towards the slaver.

The sudden release of pressure had Yao dashing forward, hands glowing incandescent white as energy gathered in his fist. The slaver met him head on, flames pulsing in his own hands. They blocked one another's attacks, neither relenting.

It was… strange. The way the slaver moved, it was familiar. Yao felt his eyes darken as he lost his focus. This was the way Kiku had fought. It wasn't as refined, but it was definitely Kiku's technique. Yao hissed as he stepped back, cheek singed and throbbing. The slaver sneered as he looked down at Yao. "Familiar, isn't it?" His eyes locked onto Yao's own, mockery dancing in their depths.

Yao's eyes widened as he advanced at the slaver, air thrumming with energy as he dealt punch after punch, all precautions thrown away. The smell of charred flesh and sweat filled the air between them. The slaver laughed, the sound rough.

He met Yao's gaze and his laughter only intensified. Yao held back, fist poised to strike as he looked on in confusion. The slaver's eyes twinkled in madness, eyes dilated to the point that his eyes looked entirely black. Yao's skin tingled at the probing look.

Yao shook his head, the action sluggish, he raised his hand to his face, only to find that it, too, was slow to respond.

"Surprised, aren't you?" Yao's gaze shot to the slaver, mouth unresponsive. "_This_ is the power of blood magic, Healer. What is the worth of a few slaves for power like this?" He loomed over Yao, his gaze slowly raking over his prone form. "Smile."

And Maker he did.

It was wrong. The way his lips shifted, the feel of the smile on his face, it was too wide, too fake. And Yao couldn't wipe it from his face.

"It seems your companions are struggling with my friend." The Slaver glanced behind Yao. "What a pity. Who would have guessed that a Templar would fear injuring an elf." He furrowed his brow. "How about you help them? You don't mind sacrificing one thing if it means preserving another." He pulled a dagger from his belt. "All for the greater good, right?"

He extended the dagger to Yao, and gently said, "Take the knife."

Yao tried to shake his head, his skin clammy as a cold, sunken despair settled in the pit of his stomach. He tried to scream, tried to pull his arm back, but the only movement was a slight twitch of his fingers.

"I wonder… what demon will your blood call?"

_'Your blood.'_

Yao's back _ached_. It _burned_. Every nerve ending was screaming for him to stop. STOP.

_'I need your strength, your power... your blood, brother.'_

No. Yao breathed in raspy breaths, eyes squeezed shut as he fought against the slavers mental hold. NO.

The air around Yao buzzed, and he knew at once that it was the spirit of the Fade that followed him, but even the spirit was unable to break the hold.

oOo

**Fade:** Known by the Dalish as the Beyond, it is a metaphysical realm that is part of Thedas yet separated by the Veil. Every living being, with the exception of dwarves, enters the Fade mentally when they dream and mages tap into it when they cast spells. Demons and spirits reside in the Fade.

**Spirit: **A natural inhabitant of the Fade.

oOo

He had to calm down. This wasn't Kiku. He had his share of mental attacks before. He just had to _calm down_. Yao closed his eyes and forced himself to focus. Magic was not intended for this. Magic was a force of life, of good, it was meant to preserve and protect. And the people who wielded it had a responsibility to use it as it was intended.

Yao couldn't allow this man to do more harm.

Yao smacked the dagger away, eyes shining bright as his body shook with electric energy. The slaver wasn't even able to utter a gasp of surprise before his body was thrown against the wall, an invisible pressure pressing against his body.

A bone-crushing snap rang in the air as the slaver cried out in anguish, a mix of saliva and blood spilling from his lips. Slowly Yao stalked towards him, his hand resting over the slavers heart. "This isn't the Tevinter Imperium. Your crimes here are not for me to judge, despite how much I may want, too." Yao leaned forward, voice laced with disdain. "I don't like you. And I certainly don't care enough for you to abandon beliefs I hold dear." Yao stepped back a fire in his eyes. "I won't cheapen myself for you."

Yao held him against the wall, just enough pressure to keep him from moving, though Yao doubted that the slaver would be able to move anytime soon. Yao stared at him for a long minute.

Slowly Yao glanced over his shoulder finding Francis kneeling beside Arthur. Francis' hand rested on Arthur's shoulder, a pensive expression as he watched the elf collect himself. Arthur's faced was buried in his hands, body shaking with each breath. Deep gashes covered Arthur's arm, the cuts wrapping around his arm, ending at his gloved hand.

Arthur's staff lay forgotten a few feet away, the sigils on the staff glowed a faint blood-red. Near it the body of the demon laid, a gaping wound from its stomach to its heart.

Yao walked to the unconscious elves, resisting the temptation to check on Yong Soo first. He couldn't raise any suspicions. He pulled the two children out from the others, checking for any serious injuries. They were hot, their skin clammy under his hands. Yao pressed his palms against one of the children, healing magic gently entering the child. Almost instantly the child's breathing eased.

"How are they?" Francis asked, standing near Yao.

"They're sick. That drug wasn't made for them, if they had been a bit older they would have been fine." Yao glanced up at Francis. "But we got here in time. They'll be fine. The children and everybody else, too."

Francis nodded his gaze moving from Yao back to Arthur. "Is it true?" He asked shuffling slightly. "What he said about your brother."

Yao was silent as he worked, weaving from one person to the next. "Yes," he said as last. He walked towards Yong Soo, eyes softening as he held his brother's hand. "All of it is true."

"Even about…" he hesitated, "his death?"

"All of it."

"I see." Francis said, a grim twist to his lips. He walked away from Yao, eyes narrowed as he rounded on the slaver.

Yao continued working, listening to the Orlesian mutter threats. Yong Soo snored lightly as Yao cradled his face, healing magic pouring into his flesh. Yao couldn't help but smile at the sound. It had been a trying day.

He ruffled Yong Soo's hair as he stood, smile thinning as he spotted Arthur approaching.

Arthur looked at him with serious eyes. All fear and uncertainty gone from his face. "Will they be well?"

"Eventually. The two children will need more time than the others, but they will all recover." Yao met Arthur's gaze head on. "Eventually everyone will recover," he said, hand outstretched to Arthur. Arthur raised a brow, eyes flicking before the outstretched hand and Yao's face. Yao rolled his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips. "Your arm."

Arthur glanced down, his posture tense as he stepped back. "A healer at the castle can take care of this."

"Or," Yao began, "I can take care of it now." When Arthur still did not move, Yao shifted his weight, arms crossed. He was no fool. The injury was more than physical. The demon had damaged Arthur mentally. And that was something that he understood.

Yao had no doubt that Arthur's arm would plague him just as his own back did him. Arthur's mind would offer him no solace.

After today he knew that Kiku would weigh heavily on his own mind once again. He had failed one brother, and he had almost failed another.

The very least Yao could offer was sympathy.

"Arthur, even if we don't understand each other that is no reason to reject one another. You are injured. Very badly." Yao extended his hand once again. "Let me treat your injury."

Arthur snorted dismissively. "And here I thought that our dislike was mutual."

"It wouldn't be called empathy if you only felt it for those you like." He shook his head, face pensive. "I know what it feels to be lied to by someone you thought was a loved one."

Arthur froze at the words. For a second Yao thought that he would turn and walk away. Instead Arthur stepped forward, a shuddering breathe escaping his lips.

Surprise must have showed on his face because Arthur scowled, cheeks red as he thrust his arm towards Yao.

Neither spoke as Yao spun webs of magic over Arthur's hand, magic interweaving with Arthur's flesh. Some wounds took seconds, but Arthur had quite a few that required a sturdy hand. Yao watched as blood oozed out as he stitched magic into the flesh, beads of blood escaping with each stitch.

"How hard was it? Dealing with your brother's death."

Yao stared at the next wound, brows furrowed. He had opened himself up to this conversation he reminded himself. Magic once again flowed from his fingers. "You think their dying is the worst that can happen." Yao pressed his lips tightly. "Then they stay dead."

"And for the next few weeks every time you fall asleep you dream that everything is the way it used to be. That you killing him was just some sick, horrible joke. So every time you wake it's like that first night all over again, like you're being slammed against a wall every time."

Arthur stared at the ground, eyes bright. "I'm sorry," he said after a time.

"It's fine. I haven't told you what others don't already know."

Arthur simply shook his head, shoulders slumped as he eyed the ground. Yao hummed as he worked, trying to ease the solemn tension in the air. Arthur being docile was… unnerving. Whatever the demon had made him see had obviously affected him.

Arthur's fingers twitched in his hands. "It looked like my brother." Yao paused. Eyes focused intently on the semi-healed wound before him. "He's been missing. Missing for decades." Arthur swallowed. "We've been looking for him, my brother and I. It's been difficult. Through it all I never believed he was dead. Never even considered it.

"Then that bastard," he forced out through gritted teeth, "made me believe that I found him. And just as quick as I find him he's gone." Arthur's voice cracked. "I thought, 'that bastard Francis _killed_ him. My _brother_.' I couldn't think of anything else but hurting him. He betrayed my trust. He betrayed _me_." A pained expression spread across Arthur's face. "But he hadn't. That Orlesian bastard didn't even try to raise a hand against me." He squeezed his eyes shut.

A torrent of emotions painted Arthur's face. Anger, shame, guilt, and tremendous sadness. Arthur sucked in a breath which sounded more like a chocked sob. Yao refused to look up. He wasn't meant to see Arthur liked this. As much as he disliked the elf, seeing him fall apart because he thought he saw his brother _die_… no one should have to experience such a lie.

"Demons are natural manipulators, Arthur."

He laughed humorlessly. "I should have known better."

Yao released his hold on Arthur's arm, long pink scars all that remained of Arthur's injuries. "I won't offer you meaningless words about how things well get better." Yao said as Arthur looked his arm over. "It does not get easier, but it does get less painful. Pain makes us who we are, and it makes us better people if we allow it. What that demon made you see… use that memory to protect what matters with everything you have, or you'll have nothing, and deserve it. Your brother is alive, Arthur." Yao looked down to Yong Soo. "He is alive."


End file.
